The Queen's Opal: A Stone Bearers Novel (Book One)

by Jacque Stevens

  “Did Picc tell you that?”

  “Yes. But isn’t a robe clothing, or is my Human incorrect?”

  A laugh escaped over Kol’s former frown. “No, your ‘Human’ is actually better than a lot of people ’ere. It’s just slang, you know? We call the wizards ‘robes,’ the human nobles who use magic.”

  “So human magic users are going to chop me up?”

  “I wouldn’t listen to a word Picc says.” Even if Picc was right, there was no point in telling the elf that. It wouldn’t change anything. “No one knows what the robes will do. They’re a bit mysterious, locked up in their tower with their magic and all. I imagine they’ll be just as curious ’bout you as the rest of us. Wanta ask you questions and the like.”

  “Yes, I know about that, too.” The elf sat, wincing, staring at its hands. The green stone glowed faintly through its fingers, the soft light matching the elf’s aura.

  Had the rock been glowing before?

  “Do you think, if I answered some of their questions, they would answer some of mine? I don’t know where I am or where to find my friends or anything anymore.” The elf seemed entirely resigned to this. Like it hadn’t been slipping its ropes and leaping about like a shade whenever it had the chance. Like it hadn’t just torn itself bloody escaping the chain.

  “If you ain’t tryin’ to leave, why do you keep messin’ ’round in ’ere? You must know it leads to trouble.”

  The elf tensed again as if it expected the very walls to attack. “There’s no air in here.”

  “’Course there is.” The window had been latched, same as the door, but inch-wide gaps marred the wooden walls. A cool breeze trickled through. The exaggeration was so obvious, it had to be some kind of line. Kol’s whole body prepared for the attack.

  “No, there’s not. It’s dark and hot and . . .” The elf rocked back and forth, its words lost in shallow gasping. Its back hit the wall rhythmically, its face a mask of pain.

  If the elf was acting, it was very good at it. Better than Kol had ever been.

  “You’re claustrophobic,” Kol said. “You’re a fairy from the forest, and you’re claustrophobic.”

  The elf paused, staring. It might not know what the word meant, but it was true. Dwarf was right. The elf was going to get itself killed long before they ever reached the capital, either by its own efforts or by Cain’s temper afterward. Killing it now might be kinder, but Kol couldn’t bring himself to be that kind. It would just have to run off and die on its own.

  Kol bent down, eye level with the elf. “Listen, Drynn, I’ll make you a deal. Around ’ere we got somethin’ called collateral. When two people don’t know each other well enough to trust each other yet, the first person will hold somethin’ when doin’ a favor. The other person either has to keep his side of the bargain or lose somethin’ valuable. You let me hold on to that stone, and I’ll let you out. I’ll give it to you when you’re back in ’ere. All I need is your word that you’ll stay.”

  The elf watched him for another moment, then handed him the stone. Kol stepped back and pushed open the door. The elf shot outside and was up a tree in a blink.

  Kol couldn’t quite believe it after watching it stagger earlier. He peered through the leaves, then shrugged it off. He hadn’t expected the elf to keep its word and stay. He just figured if he had the stone, he could barter down some of his own lashes when Cain found out. If Picc thought the stone was magical, maybe he could convince Cain of the same.

  It was exactly how things were supposed to go in the first place.

  Kol had all he could take of worrying about Cain for one night, so he lay under the tree with the stone firmly in one hand.

  It wasn’t glowing anymore.

  CHAPTER 17

  TAYVIN STARED AT the sluggish green solution in the jar. Now that the herbs were done brewing, he was supposed to be labeling them. Problem was, he had no idea what this one was called—not in Human. Not even in Elven, now that it had been smashed into unrecognizable soup.

  He held it up for Healer Nami to see across the table. “What is this one?”

  Mira giggled, looking up from her own jar. “Needle’s Flare. We did a bunch of them yesterday. You kept adding extra e’s.”

  “Oh, I am remembering now.” Though yesterday was just one long blur of jars filled with green liquids that looked exactly the same.

  Mira shook her head. “Not ‘remembering.’ You just say ‘I remember.’”

  “I remember.” Tayvin had no reservations about learning from a woman healer. He just hadn’t realized she would be seven years old.

  “That’s right.” Mira looked to her mother. “I bet he learns to talk faster than the twins.”

  “Tayvin can talk,” Nami said. “He knows Dorran, and he knows his own language. He just needs a few more pointers in ours.”

  Mira nodded. “Because he’s a Derwell.”

  “Derwell is a country, not a race. Tayvin is human.”

  Tayvin didn’t know anything about Derwell, but Nami had said it was a human country to the southeast and would be his most believable origin. He hoped no one ever asked him about it. He didn’t want to memorize Derwell customs and history on top of everything else.

  He stared at his jar. How many e’s did Needle’s Flare have again?

  “Do you remember what Needle’s Flare does?” Nami asked.

  Mira’s hand shot up.

  Nami shook her head. “Mira, let Tayvin answer.”

  He didn’t have an answer. “It . . .”

  “Mistress Healer!” A voice pierced through the walls accompanied by a thundering at the door. Someone was knocking, but Tayvin jerked at the noise—still not used to the practice. There weren’t any doors to knock on in the elven kingdom, and neighbors just came in as they pleased.

  Nami rose. Mira set her jar at the edge of the table and raced after her mother, braids bouncing. The jar tipped.

  Tayvin shoved it back before it fell. No more herbs for now, thank the goddess.

  He turned as the door opened.

  “Coban, what’s wrong? Is it your wife?” Nami asked.

  The white-faced man nodded vigorously. “I think the baby is coming.”

  “Let me grab a few things, and I’ll be right over.”

  The man nodded again and ran off.

  Mira darted around the kitchen. “Lita’s going to have a baby!” She dropped some herbs, a knife, and a measure of string near her mother.

  Nami grabbed some blankets as Mira dashed back toward the table.

  Tayvin stood, shifting foot to foot. Was he supposed to be grabbing things too? “Are you wanting me—I mean, are you want me to be watching—watch the children again?”

  Nami stepped back from her bag, brushing the hair from her face. “Thank you, but you’re my apprentice. Don’t you think you better start coming?”

  Tayvin paled. “What if they are want me to talk?”

  “Everyone will be too distracted to notice. You’ll just be helping me, and the fastest way to learn is to keep doing it.” She turned to her daughter. “Mira, after you get the leaves, go outside and find your brothers. I think they’re pestering that cat again. If you need anything, go to the Potters’ next door.”

  Mira stuck her bottom lip out until she heard the plight of the stray cat. She brought her mother a box of dry leaves, then ran outside.

  “I think I’m ready,” Nami said. “Help me carry these things over.”

  Tayvin swung the bag over his shoulder, and they jogged several blocks to a carpentry shop. A woman’s screams filled the building. Nami swept past the littered tools and half-finished projects to the stairs behind the back counter. Tayvin followed her up to where Coban, a young woman, and a silver-headed woman huddled around a pregnant woman lying in bed.

  Her face was white and twisted in pain.

  Nami knelt by the woman and did a quick examination. “Yes, the baby is coming. Has she been resting like I suggested?”

  The man shifted his
feet. “She said she was fine.”

  “She would say that, but I trusted you to make her rest. It’s still a few weeks early.” Creases crossed Nami’s face as she palpated the stomach. “Tayvin, give Lita some of the saffa. The baby’s breeched again. I need to turn it before delivery.”

  That was right. The dried saffa leaves were a painkiller, and the Needle’s Flare, the herb Nami had asked him about earlier, made people throw up. He remembered now. But why would someone want to throw up?

  Tayvin grabbed the saffa and dropped near the stricken woman. Her face scrunched, gritted teeth showing. He forced the leaves through them as if opening a rusted bear trap.

  “Coban, if you’re going to faint, do it outside.” Nami never looked up from her inspection of the woman’s stomach, but still guessed the man’s state correctly. “Or better yet, show Tayvin where he can build a fire. I need some water boiling. Take the string and the knife with you; they need to go in the water.”

  Tayvin took them and ran after Coban, who was already halfway down the stairs. Coban pointed to the fire pit. His wife screamed again, and he raced back up the stairs.

  Tayvin built up the fire, hung a water pot, and put the items inside. Then he hesitated. Should he watch the fire or go back up to help Nami? At home, he would never leave a fire unattended, but without more instruction he wouldn’t know what to do once the water boiled.

  Why were they boiling these things in the first place?

  Tayvin hurried upstairs. A metal rope hung from a ceiling beam, Lita squatting as she clung to the women and the rope. Coban hovered uselessly. The women coaxed Lita on, whispering assurances as her cries grew more frequent. Nami crouched in front of her. “Tayvin, I’m going to need that knife soon.” Her face scrunched like Mira when she asked a question.

  Tayvin cleared the stairs, two and three at a time. The pot boiled over. He swung it away from the fire with a towel, searching the room for something to fish out the knife with. Tongs lay on the table. It took a ridiculously long time to capture the knife and string and place them on the towel. He kicked out the fire and ran upstairs with his prizes.

  “There you are.” Nami turned from him to her charge. “I might have to help the baby along a bit, but it is nothing to worry about, Lita. Tayvin will give you some more saffa.”

  Lita tensed up. “Here it comes,” Nami said. “You’re doing great.”

  Tayvin pushed the leaf in Lita’s mouth, and her face wrinkled like dried fruit. A tremor passed through her, and another small yell filled the room. Nami took a step back with the child in her arms. It, or rather he, was blue and covered with a white film.

  Nami’s mouth became a firm line as she leaned in.

  “What’s wrong?” Coban asked, but Tayvin already knew. This was the first birth he had actually been present for, but he had seen that look often enough on the faces of midwives when an elven baby came too early to live. The only thing worse were the faces of the parents.

  Nami cleared fluid from the baby and rubbed her hands over him. Seconds passed in agonizing silence. A minute. She shook her head, slowly. “Tayvin come and take him. His mother needs me now.”

  The child had to be dead. Tayvin took the body in a blanket, his arms moving in the same pattern they had when holding his cousins when they were younger, though he had never seen a dead child before. An elven body would have disintegrated, but the human’s body remained to haunt those who mourned him. Cold. Still. Whoever created the humans in this way was a cruel being.

  He watched Nami fight to contain the remaining blood, while the woman’s family held onto her, their own tears tracking down their reddened cheeks. Tayvin’s arms moved with a restless tension. The baby made a soft gurgling noise, and Tayvin moved him to his shoulder, rubbing the child’s back. The movements were so natural that the baby cried before Tayvin looked down.

  Then he almost dropped the squirming thing he held in his arms. The baby pinkened with each cry.

  Nami startled, turning around. “What did you do?”

  “I was just holding him. I . . .” Tayvin shook his head, allowing Nami to take the baby and make her own conclusions.

  But in the end, Nami shrugged. “I must’ve missed something.”

  “It’s a miracle,” said the gray-haired woman. “The spirits have blessed us.”

  “I have never known a spirit to do something like this, but . . .” Nami shrugged again. “Lita, would you like to take a look at your son?”

  Sweat drenched Lita’s face, but she beamed as the baby was lifted into her waiting arms.

  After everything had been straightened up, Nami did another assessment and gave some instruction to the women in private. Tayvin waited outside the door with the new father. “What are you, the healer’s bodyguard?” the man asked as if he had just noticed Tayvin’s presence.

  Bodyguard? Tayvin frowned. He knew this would happen. “I am Tayvin. Nami is teaching me to be a healer.”

  “Oh. Thanks for your help.” Coban held out his hand.

  Right, he was supposed to shake it. Tayvin stuck his hand out, but by then Coban was squinting at him again.

  Nami came out of the room, carrying her supplies. “Coban, you can go in now. I’ll be back in a few days, so just try to get Lita to take it easy until then.”

  The man nodded, but he was so quick to leave that Tayvin wondered if he had actually heard anything.

  Tayvin took the bag from Nami, and they walked down the stairs. The trek back to the house seemed longer now that they took it at a slower pace. Nami sighed heavily, letting her firm posture drop. “Thanks for all the help in there.”

  Tayvin shrugged. He hadn’t helped that much. “That is what I am here for.”

  “How was it for you? I should have asked earlier, but blood doesn’t make you queasy or anything, does it?”

  Tayvin shook his head. He had been on enough hunting trips with Andver and Andver’s father that any problems he might have had in that area were long since laid aside. “No, but it scaring me a little. Elves are never having many children. The early babies at home . . . they are dying. Always.”

  “Really?” Nami’s eyes grew distant. “That baby wasn’t breathing, but it wasn’t for very long. If I didn’t have Lita near hemorrhaging, I could have tried—but you . . . ?”

  She didn’t have to say it. He didn’t have any idea what he was doing. “I was only holding him.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe it was a miracle. I never put much stock in spirits or superstition, but it would be silly to think we know everything about the human body. Even Ia—the wizard healer can’t claim that. And your people never have gotten sick before this?”

  “We get better, or we die. Then nothing is left.”

  “And when someone had this illness . . . what does that look like?”

  Unbidden memories of his mother flashed across his mind. “They are fine, then they are tired. They are sleeping all day and tired when awake. Then they do not wake up. She looked . . . older and gray, in the end.”

  “Do you know any other symptoms? Headaches, nausea or anything?” She sounded excited by the mystery.

  “No.” There could have been, but his mother wouldn’t have mentioned it. And Drynn wasn’t here to ask. What if Drynn had started having symptoms without anyone to notice?

  Tayvin’s heart raced, wondering again if he made the right choice. He had more than enough distractions to keep him busy, but was there something else he should be doing to help Drynn? Anything at all?

  Nami sighed. “I don’t know of anything that would do that offhand, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t in one of my books. I’ll look around.”

  “Thank you,” he said. She and Cindle would probably figure it all out before him no matter what he did. “Could you also be telling me what bodyguard means? The man thought I was one.”

  Nami peered at him and laughed. “Perhaps you shouldn’t bring your sword next time we go out. They think you fight as a trade.”

  Tayvi
n glanced back, finding the handle. He wore his sword all the time. It was easy to forget about it. “Oh. I guess he was right. Sort of. The rangers mostly try to avoid fighting.”

  “It’s my fault,” she said. “I didn’t want you to get discouraged, sitting at home with Mira, but next time, we really ought to find you something more common to wear. I bet we could find a way to hide your ears with a hat, and you could untie your hair and cut it a bit.”

  “All that?”

  “It’s just so you stand out less. Not everyone trusts foreigners anymore. We’re at war with most of them, and being a fairy is worse. There’s always a ruckus when magic is involved.”

  Tayvin paled, jerking to a stop. “Elves don’t have magic. It is evil and vile, and we would not touch it if we could.” Drow used magic. Elves did not.

  “What? I always assumed—Well, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t trying to offend you. I just want you to be careful so you don’t get into trouble while you’re here.”

  Tayvin nodded and followed after the healer again. “Nami, I am sorry. It is just that . . . if a human thought I was magical, what would they do?”

  “Best not to worry about it. You stick with me, and you’ll blend in so well it will never be an issue.”

  Tayvin frowned. He wasn’t worried about himself. He worried about Drynn.

  PART II:

  HAUNTED

  CHAPTER 18

  IMAGES OF CITY streets—the same streets Saylee had run through before—played across Drynn’s vision. Her long red curls bounced as she burst with excitement Drynn could almost feel. She stood next to her father and Marryll, clinging to her father’s arm.

  “They think she’s a bearer of a human goddess?” Aldyn frowned.

  Saylee nodded. “They say I can heal people when they’re hurt or sick—see visions, just like Bearer Mouikki can. He sees the future, and I see the past.”

  If that was true, the opal could once do everything Drynn and his brother had been looking for—the human’s most effective healing agent. He had come to the humans to find it, and he had it this whole time.