Keepers of the Flame (33 page)

Look
, Elizabeth
said.
A tumor beneath his breastbone.

Huh,
said Bri. It
was a solid chunk of gray about an inch in diameter, but it appeared like a
miniature brain, with folds and crevasses. The web spun out from it.
Stop
the spread, first, as usual.
But the pinpoint of a frinkweed web wasn’t
nearly as big or as threatening, as this Chevalier battle sickness.

He
died under her hands. Bri actually saw a transparent something—his soul?—wisp
up from his body and dissipate.

Utter
shock hit her so hard her teeth snapped together.

“I’m
sorry,” Elizabeth was saying. “This new sickness was too well advanced and
malignant for us to heal him.”

Bri
stared at her hands on the unbreathing chest. Her gift had never failed her.
Never. Sometimes it had been wobbly. Sometimes, like now apparently, she
couldn’t help. But she never tried to heal if she knew she couldn’t help, just
sat and talked and comforted.

But
she’d thrown herself into the healingstream, pulled it through her body, used
all her own resources, too, and it hadn’t been enough.

She
should have been able to save him. She knew it. There was some technique or
trick that would have healed him. Just doing what she had been all her life
wasn’t enough, and it should have been.

The
other Chevalier wept silently. Elizabeth soothed him with touch and Song,
trying to comfort. The loss of a spouse was devastating.

The
body convulsed under Bri’s palms in a final spasm. Death rattle. Bri jerked
away, dazed, to Elizabeth. She’d dealt with this often enough to be able to
function.

“We’ll
take care of him,” said a Castle medica, pulling a sheet over his face.

“Appears
as if the Dark or the Master knows we can heal the frinkweed disease and has
designed something different,” Marian said grimly. “It can’t be cured by the
Exotique medicas, can cause them to doubt themselves, and engender an
additional terror into those fighting.”

“Excellent
analysis,” Alexa said.

“An
additional horror,” Calli said. “Something to take back from the battlefield
that eats you inside.” She shuddered.

Elizabeth,
holding the other Chevalier and leading him from the room, glared back at the
Colorado women.

Stumbling
to a chair, Bri flexed her fingers. Her hands had failed her.

There
was murmuring in the hallway, then Elizabeth returned and came to Bri, putting
her hand on Bri’s shoulder.
Easy. Alexa’s right. It wants us to doubt.

What
am I doing here? I’m a massage therapist!
Bri whimpered.

Elizabeth’s
nails dug into her shoulder.
Stop that! You’re a natural healer. Be glad
you’ve helped so many. Helped me.

Sevair
walked in, dressed in elegant flying gear made of strange gray leather. With a
little jolt, Bri realized that his tunic and pants were made of soul-sucker
skin. “It’s time to leave for Troque City.”

Bri
stared at him blindly. “Leave?” She looked down at her hands that had betrayed
her. “I can’t leave.” Her voice broke. “Not until we figure out why we can’t
cure this. The Chevaliers need me—”

Sevair’s
expression went hard. “The Marshalls and the Chevaliers have Elizabeth.” He
inclined his head to her. “And their own medicas. You are here for the Cities
and Towns.” He made a sweeping gesture. “People are dying from frink sickness
out there. In the other towns and villages, across the land. Your visit will
give them hope. Your duty is to us.”

Because
they were the ones who paid for the Summoning. Bri tasted bitterness.

“He’s
right,” Elizabeth said. “The Circlets and medicas will be researching this new
sickness.”

“Absolutely
for sure,” Alexa said, fingering her baton.

“I’ll
be here,” Zeres said heavily. “I’ll do what I can. Here and in Castleton while
you are away. I can learn from—and help—Elizabeth.” His upper lip lifted.
“Perhaps other medicas can learn from me.”

The
other medicas shared an uneasy glance as if disturbed at following Zeres’s
path, discovering how to cure the frink sickness but surrendering some sanity.

Bri’s
fisted nails poked into her hands. “I thought we were leaving tomorrow?”

Sevair
came to her, lifted her to her feet, and wrapped a plush purple cape around
her. “Why waste daylight when we can fly at night? Have a late dinner and rest
at a fine inn at Troque—we’re visiting the main cities first—then you can begin
healing when fresh.” He clasped the cape under her chin with a jeweled broach,
kind eyes looking down at her. “You’re tired. You can rest on the way.”

Bri
didn’t know about that. Or this fine, warm cape. But that wasn’t her first
concern. “We’ll be gone longer than a week?” She still didn’t like that idea.

A
short nod from Sevair.

“Then
I won’t get back until after our parents return and find out Elizabeth and I
are gone.” Her voice rose. She
hated
thinking of that. Their frantic
fear.

Sevair’s
jaw flexed. “I spoke to my colleagues this morning. The Cities and Towns have
authorized payment to Circlet Bossgond to find a way of communicating with the
Exotique Medicas’ parents.” One side of his mouth twitched up in a sour smile.
“He wasn’t cheap.”

Alexa
drew herself up. “We Exotiques will reimburse you for half. We want this, too.
To ease our friends’ minds and our own.” She shrugged. “Materials for
Bossgond’s magic spells—”

“Studies,”
Marian
corrected.

Alexa
snorted, shrugged. “Whatever. Bossgond uses a lot of dreeth parts.” Again she
caressed her baton. “We’ll provide them. Anything he needs from the horrors. As
for you,” she pointed a finger at Sevair. “The current Master of the horrors
was your man. Consider how he might think. The frinks have been falling for a
couple of years, so that was a part of the old Master’s plan to demoralize us.
But I bet your guy developed this new Chevalier sickness.” She twitched as if
she felt something between her shoulder blades. “It’s bad when you think that
you might take something that will kill you slowly and painfully back from
battle.”

“That’s
happened for years at home,” Elizabeth said. “Bri and I have seen it.” She met
Bri’s gaze, and a tide of love and shared emotions washed between them.

“Yeah,
yeah.” Alexa rubbed a temple. “But I was a lawyer at home. Didn’t fight in
stupid wars there.”

“I
will think on this,” Sevair said, biting off the words. “Though I’ve done
little else since Jumme betrayed me. Now it is time for Bri and me to leave.”

Bri
stuck up her chin. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay exactly where she
was.
She’d
always made her own decisions about when to go or stay.

Elizabeth
came over and hugged her hard. “Be safe.” So Elizabeth was sure this is what
had to be done and therefore it was good. Bri kept hot, futile words from her
tongue and mind.

“I
still don’t know how to ride a volaran well enough for Distance Magic.” And
that sentence was so odd, so full of Lladranan concepts she shook her head.

“Other
Circlets have rented us a flying carriage.”

Bri
goggled at him.

“They
didn’t trust security in Castleton.” His jaw flexed again. “So it’s here in the
Landing Field.”

Marian
sniffed, put her hands on her hips. “As if anyone in Castleton could fly it
without knowing the songspell, even if they had the Power.” She eyed Sevair.
“You’re stronger than you appear.”

That
had him smiling and a slight bow in her direction. “Thank you.” He said to Bri,
“I’ve had your clothes packed and your special bag collected.” She thought of
her solar-paneled backpack, of Tuckerinal. Since Sevair had re-commissioned the
safe in the Tower, he knew the passwords. “My things are sitting in the coach?”

“They
are secure.”

“From
the fey-coo-cus?” she asked. “They like to eat electronics…uh, Exotique nuts.”

He
frowned. “I don’t think they’ve been invited into the coach.”

“Knowing
who built it, I’d say not,” Marian said.

The
little spurt of fear had distracted Bri from the greater. She stared at her
hands. “I don’t know if I can heal.”

Yes,
you can!
It wasn’t only her twin saying it. More than stereo resonated in her mind. She
blinked and blinked again. Everyone in the room gazed at her, all of them with
strong, supportive Songs wrapping around her, lifting her spirits and her
confidence. Not one person in the room doubted her.

She
stared at them. All her life she’d wanted respect for her gift. Now she had it.
She flexed her fingers. Despite all the Power, the healingstream, her twin,
even, she’d failed. Might fail again.

Closed
her eyes and
listened
to an orchestral piece of blended melodies, all
determined to fight the Dark and win with whatever tools they had: baton or
spells or healing hands.

Sevair
took her hand and her exhaustion lessened. His hand was steady and calloused,
as strong and reliable as his Song. She needed that, as a stranger in a strange
land, leaving her twin behind.

Elizabeth
hugged her again.
You’ll do great. And I’ll get a message to the folks.

Bri
doubted, but the Songs still bolstered her. She blew out a breath, hugged
Elizabeth, opened her eyes and put her hand in Sevair’s again. His serious
brown gaze reassured her.

She
squared her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

25

T
he flying coach
was an elegant wheelless carriage of green and gold with little medica flags of
red with a white cross. Elizabeth had expected something the size and color of
a pumpkin.

She
watched it rise and zoom away. It was hardly ten feet above the ground before
Elizabeth was missing Bri and wishing her twin back. They’d been separated for
years and even here hadn’t been living together. But lately they’d usually seen
each other every day, and that was a pleasure now gone—again.

Elizabeth
leaned back against the muscular form of her lover. Faucon held her. If he was
near, he was touching her, and that she liked. Cassidy had been hesitant—she
stopped that thought. She was
not
going to compare the men. Never mind
that she’d never lived in the moment before, always planned. With this affair
she was living in the moment. She shivered.

Faucon
kissed her hair. “He’ll take care of her.”

“I
know.”

“There
isn’t a man steadier in the world than Sevair Masif.”

Elizabeth
sighed. “Odd to think of Bri needing someone to take care of her, but I think
she does.”

“They’re
a good match.” He cleared his throat.

“Don’t,”
Elizabeth said. “Don’t mention us or the future.”

His
muscles tensed a few seconds, then eased. He cleared his throat. “That coach
has benches that make into a bed. How do you feel about that?”

Elizabeth
snorted. “Sevair would have his hands full if he tried to seduce Bri.
That
I can’t see.” Exactly. Didn’t want to.

But
she wanted Faucon. Cowardly of her, to hold so tightly to him, but she didn’t
want to be alone, especially not this evening.

Night
had fallen and those who’d come out to watch Bri leave had drifted away.
Faucon’s hands slid up to her breasts and Elizabeth hummed in her throat as
desire sparked.

Then
they were pushed hard, nearly toppled over.

“What!”
Faucon steadied them.

A
whinny came and a nervous white volaran sidled into view.

Faucon
said, “You need to go to the stables.” Then he hesitated. “I don’t know you.”

The
volaran took a couple of steps backward.

A
little hum sounded in her mind and Elizabeth received an impression of a white
five-petaled flower bending to a breeze. From the volaran!

She
squinted and met big, shy eyes set in a gentle volaran face. The volaran
radiated sweetness. Elizabeth realized that the winged horse was female. They
looked at each other, Faucon once again stepping behind her and linking his
hands at her waist, leaving her own free.

The
flying horse clopped forward, close. She was all white. In the starlight and
moonlight her entire body had a silver sheen. Since the volaran wanted her head
petted, Elizabeth did so, soft tiny feathers instead of hair. The volaran
turned and Elizabeth’s fingers trailed across its head and down its neck. Its
mane was soft, too.

“I
think it wants to be
your
volaran,” said Faucon.

Elizabeth
stiffened. Faucon stepped away and introduced himself to the volaran. Murmuring
easy words, he stroked her from her head to her rump and the volaran made an
approving sound, turned her head, and batted her lashes at him! That wrung a
chuckle from Elizabeth.