After a stretch of disoriented confusion, Meira’s mind became very clear. She handed the burning fuse to Javil, then grabbed the bucket and dumped the last few ruined charges out. They might still fire, even drenched with so much liquid, but she wasn’t going to try. A shot that failed to go off would waste time while they cleared the weapon and reloaded.
Every member of the crew had trained to perform every task, for exactly this eventuality. Meira trotted back to the powder wagon, climbed into the bed, opened a barrel, and methodically began transferring charges into the bucket. She would assume Otas’s duties, while Javil took responsibility for both aiming and firing. His vision was much better than hers, and managing the lit fuse while he aimed would pose only minor difficulty.
She hefted the bucket as the distant boom of the Ramunnan weapons sounded. A whistle overhead made her look up.
A shell fell from the sky and landed in the bed of the blasting powder wagon. It rolled between two full barrels and came to rest. The glowing fuse was perhaps an eighth of an inch long, shrinking before Meira’s stunned eyes.
If a wizard hadn’t seen it already and snatched it away, they weren’t going to. Cold calm settled over Meira. Her racing heart, her gasping breaths, the shouts and screams from everywhere around, all faded away.
She dropped the bucket, took three steps forward, and stooped to grasp the iron shell. It was hot against her fingers. The wizards and wounded were behind, the weapons and their crews ahead, a thick crowd of fighters to the right. To the left a small side street held only a few battling Tevenarans and Ramunnans. She turned, drew her arm back, and hurled the shell with all her might.
Inches from her fingertips, it exploded.
Thirty-Eight
Pain engulfed Meira. The rest of the world went black, but agony remained. All she could do was feel it, huge and red and bright, like a new sun blazing with her at its center. She’d felt pain before, when she’d been stabbed by a pick or burned by hot metal or gripped by labor contractions, but none of those had been remotely like this. This was everywhere and everything, and she was nothing and nowhere.
After a long, long time, a thought dragged itself from the depths of her being. She was alive. Death was pleasant warmth and soft gold clouds and the Mother. Elkan had told her so, and he’d seen the Mother with his own eyes. Twice. This was about as far from what he’d described as it was possible to get. So she must still live.
On the heels of that realization came awareness of her body. Breath rasped in and out of her lungs. Her heart hammered. She hurt everywhere, but the center of the pain was her right arm. It felt as if she’d thrust it shoulder deep into molten metal
She tried to move, but blackness threatened to swallow her again, so she stopped. After a while she managed to peel her eyelids up. Everything was blurry and unfocused, but she recognized wooden boards a short way in front of her face. She let her eyes drift closed again.
If she was alive, either she’d die or someone would come to help her. Until then she could only wait, and endure the pain that continued to burn with the white-hot intensity of her mother’s forge.
A very long time later—it felt like years, or maybe decades—she heard a voice, faintly, from somewhere far away. “I found her!” The world lurched and trembled.
Something touched her neck. “Dear Mother, she’s alive. Get a wizard over here, fast.”
Fainter, from farther away. “They’re all busy. We’ll have to take her to them.”
“I hate to move her. But I guess there’s no choice.”
An arm went under her shoulders, another under her knees. She lurched into the air. Her arm flopped loose. The pain swelled huge and monstrous, swallowing her in wild red flame until everything went black again. Although even that didn’t end the pain, only her thoughts. She was lost in the dark and the fire, with no way to find her way home.
An eternity later, soft warm radiance stole into the universe. It pushed the pain back, gently, slowly, inexorably. A voice spoke, the one voice in all the world she most wanted to hear. “It’s all right. We’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”
If that was true, why did he sound as if his heart was breaking? She struggled to open her eyes, but a gentle hand brushed them closed. “Lie still while we work.”
She complied. It was wonderful to rest and feel the warmth nibble at the edges of the pain. Little by little it ate away the fiery red ball. At length it surrounded only her right side, then only her right arm, then only her forearm, then only her wrist. Finally it dwindled to a pale aching shadow, then nothing.
She’d never realized the relief of pain could give such intense pleasure. She smiled. She’d tell him so tonight, in private, when she was free to return the favor. “May I open my eyes?”
He was breathing hard. She must have been hurt badly for the healing to have taken so much effort. That wasn’t surprising. She remembered the white flash as the shell had burst an instant after she’d released it.
But it was all right. The Mother’s power had taken the pain away. She undoubtedly had some scars, but she didn’t care about that.
Finally he answered. “All right. But don’t sit up yet, or try to move.”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a teasing tone. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, but she obediently refrained from rubbing them. She didn’t understand why she needed to remain still if they’d finished healing her, but he was the expert in his craft, so she’d do as he instructed. She blinked until his face came into focus.
Elkan was kneeling beside her on the cobblestone street, Tobi crouched at his side. His hand clutched the loose skin at the nape of his familiar’s neck so hard Meira was surprised the mountain cat wasn’t complaining. Maybe she was, in the voice only he could hear. Around them people were moving and talking. The noises of battle came from farther away. Was it her imagination, or were they dramatically diminished from what they’d been before her injury? She didn’t hear the weapons at all, only occasional clangs of metal and shouting voices. “Is the battle over?”
“Almost.” His eyes were bloodshot and the soot on his face was streaked. “Your weapon took out one of theirs, and Jaron’s got the other. After that it was just a matter of fighting until they ran out of people to send against us.”
“Good.” She smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back.
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. There was no other explanation for the way he was looking at her. As if she’d died, after all. As if he was torn apart by the grief of losing her. But she was here, alive, talking to him. She didn’t understand. “Elkan, what’s wrong?”
He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Meira, there’s something I have to tell you. Your… your…”
He was crying. Tobi licked tears from his cheek. Meira tried to reach up and wipe the rest of them away, but he held her forearm in an iron grip. Terror twisted her stomach. “My what?”
“Your hand—” His eyes darted in that direction, then scrunched closed, agony carved on his features. “I’m so sorry.”
“What’s wrong with my hand?”
He shook his head, unable to answer.
“Blast it, let go of me!” She fought to wrench her arm from his grasp. He resisted, but he was no match for her strong miner’s muscles. She tore free and thrust her hand up in front of her.
Nothing was there.
She blinked. The world lurched and spun. Her arm emerged from the burnt tatters of her tunic sleeve, skin smooth and brown and healthy-looking. It bent at the elbow as always. There were patches of fresh pink scar tissue on her forearm.
Her wrist ended in a lumpy knob of scarred pink skin.
“No,” she whispered. Louder. “No.” Then she was screaming, hitting him, shoving him away. Or trying to, but only her left hand pushed flat against his chest. Her right arm bumped against him with a sickeningly strange sensation, as if her hand had sunk into his flesh until her bones crashed into his clothes.
He knelt motionle
ss and took her abuse. Her fury spent, she fell back and closed her eyes. Trembling started deep in her belly and spread until she was shaking all over. She shook her head. “This isn’t real. It can’t be happening.”
His strong arms gathered her close and cradled her to his chest. He rocked her, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so very, very sorry…”
She melted into the solid warm comfort of his body. He loved her, and she loved him. Soon she would wake up in his arms and discover it was morning, she’d had a very bad dream, and the battle remained to be fought. She could imagine it all so vividly: the cool damp dawn air, the hard pallet beneath them, the pleasant tenderness in the parts of her body that hadn’t been used that way since Ravid died, the firm pressure of his body against hers, eager for one more round of lovemaking before they rose to face the dangers of the day…
His voice went on, ragged and hoarse, choked with grief and guilt. She tried to ignore his words, but they wormed into her awareness. “We did our best, but there was nothing left to work with. The bomb destroyed the tissue, burned it and blew it to pieces. All that was left were jagged bits of bone and burnt flesh. We salvaged as much as we could, but the Mother’s power can’t force your body to heal what it can’t on its own. If it were possible I swear we’d do whatever it took, but it’s not.”
The grotesque images he described loomed before her eyes, taunting and terrifying and sickening her. She wanted to press her hands to her ears to shut it out, but the desire only reminded her what a hideous stranger her body had become. The reality of her loss swelled huge and untamable, until she knew she would drown beneath the crashing waves.
Relentlessly, he went on. “I should never have asked you to come. I should never have listened to Josiah when he suggested turning the Ramunnans’ blasting powder against them. It’s got to be against the Mother’s will to use something that can do things like this to people. I knew it was dangerous and destructive and unpredictable, but I ignored the risk because I wanted to prove we were stronger and smarter and better than the Ramunnans. And now you’ve paid the price for my arrogance and stupidity.”
Anger channeled the rising force of her grief the way iron tubes channeled the force of the blasting powder’s explosion. Instead of remaining trapped inside until it crushed her or she burst, it roared out to blast him. “How dare you?” The relief was so great she didn’t care how much she hurt him. “That’s my craft you’re insulting. Blasting powder is not unpredictable, and it’s not dangerous when you know how to control it.” She pulled away and glared at him, her voice rising in pitch and volume. “And maybe you asked me to come, but I decided to help you because I wanted to and because I wanted to save Tevenar from the Ramunnans just as much as you did. But no, everything has to be your fault, because the Mother chose you and gave you her power and made you a burnt-and-blasted wizard. Talk about arrogant! You think you’re so much more special and blessed and holy than the rest of us that nothing we do matters.”
He stared at her, mouth agape, but she was caught up in her fury, and the words kept spilling out, faster and louder and crueler. “Well, let me tell you something. If I hadn’t picked up that shell and thrown it, the whole wagon full of blasting powder would have exploded. Everyone on this street would have been killed, including you and Tobi. So you should be thanking me for saving your life, not telling me that I’m useless and the Mother hates my work.”
He shook his head, shocked and bewildered. “Meira, I’m sorry, I’m not—”
“Why don’t you admit why you’re really upset?” She was drunk on the power of her anger, after such terrible helplessness. She wanted to hurt him, wound him, make him share the pain she couldn’t bear to suffer alone. “You think because of last night you’re stuck with me. And this”—she waved her maimed wrist in his face, taking perverse satisfaction from the way he blanched and shrank back—“disgusts you. It makes you sick to think of touching me, of letting me touch you. Well, never fear. Last night meant nothing to me. Nothing! It was fun, but it’s over. You don’t have to worry about me wanting anything more from you, ever again.”
His eyes were wide with horror. Part of her couldn’t believe what she was saying, wanted to snatch it all back and beg his forgiveness. But a bigger part saw the way he cringed from her stump and flinched when she set it on his chest and pushed. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want him bound to her by compassion or guilt or obligation. She wanted what they’d shared last night, love and pleasure freely exchanged, mutually enjoyed, as selfish as it was generous. But that was gone, burned away by the bomb’s incandescent fire, and she’d be blasted if she’d settle for less. “Go away.” She shoved him again. “I mean it. Get away from me.”
“Meira, please, I swear that’s not true. Let me—” He reached for her forearm.
She yanked it away. “Don’t touch me!”
Hadara hurried up. Whiskers peered at Meira from her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
Meira scrambled to her feet. Blood rushed in her head and her legs felt like they were about to give way, but she forced them to support her. “Tell him to go away and leave me alone.”
Elkan jumped up. “Hadara, all I want is to talk to her. Please, Meira, just listen.”
Hadara took in Meira’s injury and Elkan’s distress with one penetrating glance. She put her hand on Elkan’s arm. “Not now, Elkan.”
“But—”
“Master Meira has asked you to leave.” She raised her eyebrows at him.
He deflated, swallowing. He glanced at Tobi, who regarded him gravely, then back at Meira. His eyes were so bleak and haunted her heart quailed. “I’m sorry.” He backed up a step, then turned and stumbled away. Tobi pressed close to his side.
Hadara turned to Meira. “I’ll make sure he stays away until you’re ready to speak with him.”
“You don’t—I mean, thank you.” She ached to run after him, but now that he’d taken his churning, overflowing emotions away, she could breathe again. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong. I just needed…” She didn’t know what she’d needed, but she knew she had it now he was gone.
“A little space,” Hadara suggested.
“I guess.” Meira swallowed hard and took a couple deep breaths. This wouldn’t get any easier if she waited. Better to get it over with now.
She raised her right arm and deliberately looked at it. Shock and horror hit her all over again, but she ignored the reaction, and gradually it lessened. She turned her wrist and examined her new stump from every angle, forcing herself to consider every scar and fold of skin.
Hadara extended her hand. “May I look at it with the Mother’s power?”
Meira didn’t relish the thought of another person focusing on her maimed limb, but she shrugged. “Go ahead.”
Hadara reached up to touch her familiar, and gold light poured from her hand to surround Meira’s arm. “Elkan and Tobi did a good job. It’s completely healed, although it will be tender for a while until callouses build up. Be careful how you use it until then. Later we can see about fitting you with whatever sort of prosthesis you might find useful.”
Lost limbs weren’t terribly unusual in the Miners’ Guild. Master Zelman had lost a foot in a cave-in. Others of her acquaintance had gotten hands trapped in rockfalls or burned in accidents at the smelter. She’d never paid much attention to the hooks or carved hands they used afterwards, but she retained an impression of clumsiness. She flexed her elbow. She’d never swing a pick again, that was certain. She couldn’t trust her left hand to be accurate enough.
A Guildmaster didn’t have to be able to perform physical labor. If she couldn’t learn to write legibly with her left hand, she could hire an assistant and dictate her documents. Her mind and will and voice would lead the Blasters’ Guild regardless of her crippled body.
If her guild ever came into being.
She set her jaw and touched her stump with her left hand, tentatively at first, then more firmly. She mas
saged her forearm with her fingers and cupped the blunt end in her palm. It no longer hurt, but it was sensitive. She had the odd feeling that pain was lurking just around the corner, ready to pounce if she turned her back.
Hadara was watching, quiet and nonjudgemental. Meira turned to her. “Can I go back to work? Right now? I can still lead my crew.”
“If you feel up to it, I don’t see why not. Get something to eat first; healing so fast takes a lot of your own body’s energy as well as the wizard’s and familiar’s.” Hadara grimaced. “Normally I’d advise you to take it easy and get plenty of rest, but there’s not going to be anywhere safe enough for that until the Ramunnans are gone.”
Meira turned to look at her weapon next to Jaron’s, the body-strewn street beyond, and the two ruined weapons the enemy had abandoned. The Mother’s Hall rose above the rooftops, only a few blocks away. She clenched her fists.
Fist. The muscles in her right forearm tensed to no effect.
She shook her left fist at the Ramunnans occupying the Mother’s Hall. “You’d better get ready. We beat everything you could throw at us, and we’re coming for you next.”
* * *
There was nowhere truly private to go, but Elkan found an empty doorway and leaned his head against the cool stone wall.
This couldn’t be happening. Not again. The circumstances were nothing like the last time, but it felt the same. The woman he loved was rejecting him for no reason he could understand, and nothing he could say or do would change her mind.
Dear Mother, please make her listen to me, please make her realize I love her and would never let anything come between us. I swear, I’ll do whatever you want in return, just don’t let her leave me.
It was a useless prayer, he knew. But still he begged, like a child who’d been denied a treat. Please, Mother, please…
Tobi’s head bumped his hand. She didn’t say anything, just rubbed her face insistently against his palm until he forced his numb fingers to scratch the base of her ears. When he did, she leaned against him, her deep rumbling purr shaking his body.
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