Touch of Power. Maria Snyder V.
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genuine. He was older than Kerrick. Maybe thirty-five. His black hair had been cut so short, the strands stood straight up.
“What happens after I heal your friend?” I asked.
“You’ll be a hero,” he said.
CHAPTER 3
“Everyone hates healers, so why would healing your friend make me a hero?” I asked Loren.
“We don’t hate you. And when he’s better, he’s going to—”
Loud voices interrupted him. Kerrick and Quain returned with the young man who had pulled me from the jail between them. The boy’s long brown hair hung in his eyes, but it didn’t cover his chagrined expression.
“What happened?” Loren asked.
“He fell asleep,” Kerrick said. “Why would you assign him first shift?”
“He offered.”
“He’s sixteen, Loren. He’s been awake all night.”
“And so have we.”
“Yet you were still awake when I arrived. Why’s that?” Kerrick’s flat tone was scarier than if he’d been shouting.
“We couldn’t sleep. We were concerned about you and the healer,” Loren said.
“So was I,” the young man said.
“Yet you were fast asleep,” Kerrick said. “You’re growing, Flea. Don’t volunteer for the first shift until you’re twenty. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kerrick glanced around the chamber. “Has Belen arrived?”
“No,” Quain answered. He swept a hand over his bald head as if he could smooth away the lines of worry etched into his brow. He had no visible weapons, yet Kerrick had taken him as backup. Perhaps the thick muscles barreled around his chest, shoulders and upper arms were all the weapons he needed. I guessed he was close to my age.
“Everyone get a few hours’ sleep. Flea, make sure our … guest is comfortable. I’ll stand guard,” Kerrick said. He strode from the room without waiting to see if his orders were obeyed.
Flea shot me a lopsided grin. Between the locks of unkempt hair, humor sparked in his light green eyes. “Would you like to sleep on the right or left side of the fire, ma’am?” he asked.
“There’s no need for formalities. My name’s Avry.” I stood near the fire, letting my hands and feet soak in the warmth.
“Oh, I know,” Flea said. “Avry of Kazan Realm. We’ve been looking for you for ages.”
The three men stared at me. “Should I juggle now?” I asked Loren.
He laughed, breaking the awkwardness. “Sorry, but it’s hard to believe that we caught up to you. That you’re standing here. With us. We’ve been following your, ah, adventures for almost a year.”
I hadn’t suspected. That alarmed me. “How?”
“Rumors, mostly,” Quain said. “We’d hear about a child being healed in various towns across the Fifteen Realms. By the time we’d arrived, you were gone. A couple of times you were spotted leaving so we at least had a direction to follow. Sometimes we just had to guess which way you’d go.”
“Pure luck we were in Jaxton when you were arrested,” Flea said.
“Not really,” Loren said. “Kerrick started catching on to her pattern a few months ago.”
“My pattern?”
“Heading generally northwest, and stopping only in the bigger settlements. You’d last about … six, maybe eight weeks before healing a child and taking off.” Loren settled on his bedroll next to the fire.
When I thought about it, he was right. A zing of fear traveled up my spine. If I survived this mission, I would have to be extra-vigilant.
“We’re really surprised you weren’t caught by the locals sooner,” Quain said. He unrolled his blankets.
“Why?” I turned my back to the flames, hoping to dry my damp clothes.
“We had a list of healers,” Loren said. “But by the time we learned of their location, they’d been executed. We always heard the same gossip. That they had been caught by doing something stupid.”
“Like healing a child,” I said. My obvious weakness. Although I’d tried hard to avoid it by keeping to myself and limiting how much time I spent with other people.
“Not that at all.” Flea fussed with his bedroll. “You’re the only one who was smart enough to take off after you healed a kid. The other healers figured the grateful person or parent wouldn’t turn them in. They didn’t bother to disguise themselves like you, either.”
I tucked a short strand of blond hair behind my ear. Some disguise. I cut my hair and dyed it. I still used my own name. It was amazing I hadn’t been arrested sooner. But then I remembered what Loren had said. “How did you get a list of healers?”
He shrugged. “Kerrick had it. He probably raided one of the old town halls for the records. Didn’t the healers have a guild before?”
Before always meant pre-plague. “Yes.” But my name shouldn’t have been on it.
My apprenticeship with Tara had started when I turned sixteen—mere months before the first outbreak. Once the sickness raced across the Realms, she stopped teaching me. Instead of earning my membership in the Guild, I returned to Lekas, my home town in Kazan, to find my family gone. They were either dead or had left. None of the living could tell me. And when the rumors about the healers grew into accusations and turned into executions, no one wished to talk. I had spent my seventeenth birthday hiding in a mud puddle as my neighbors and former friends hunted for me. After three years with no word about my family, I’d lost all hope of ever finding them or even knowing what happened to them.
I glanced around the small cavern. A couple of leather rucksacks slumped in a corner, but other than stone walls and a fist-size opening in the ceiling high above our heads, there was nothing else.
At least the cave was warm and dry. However, I eyed the hard ground with dread, longing for my knapsack. It had held my thin bedroll, money, some travel rations and my cloak.
Flea finished setting up his blankets. But instead of settling in, he swept an arm out. “Ma’am, uh, Avry, your bed awaits.”
I jerked in surprise. “No need to give up your—”
“Kerrick said to make you comfortable. If I don’t, he’ll kill me. Besides—” he flashed me that lopsided grin again “—these are Kerrick’s.”
“Won’t he be mad?” From the way his men acted, he appeared to be someone you don’t want to be angry with you.
“No,” Quain said. “There is always one of us on watch. When he wakes me to take my turn, he’ll just sleep in mine.”
Loren hooked a thumb at the packs in the corner. “He can also use Belen’s.”
The men all sobered at the name.
“He’s the one who provided the distraction last night,” I said, guessing.
“Yeah,” Flea said. His shoulders drooped and he hung his head so his hair covered his eyes. “He probably got lost or something.”
“Belen doesn’t get lost,” Quain said. “He’s probably leading the town watchman on a merry chase.”
“How long will we wait for him?” I asked Quain.
“Not long.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re more important than him.