The Fractured Song Index
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Frances woke to dull, pounding aches in every limb. Had she died and gone back at her parent’s place?
Her eyes flew open. The ground was, oddly enough, felt like it was lurching side by side underneath her, but the blue sky above, and the tree branches were still. If she remembered correctly from her lessons, the flat, broad-ish leaves with their distinctive shape leaves were oak.
“Look, if we don’t wake her up, she’ll starve to death!” said a male voice. Frances craned her neck and winced at the pain that shot around her neck. She opened her mouth and tried to say something.
It was like having the worst sore throat in the world. Pain both knife-sharp and punch-thud strangled her words. All she could was wheeze.
“Timur?”
Her boyfriend was by her in a moment. “Frances! Oh thank Galena you’re awake.”
“How long?” she managed, wincing.
“Three days. We just got off the boat.” He reached behind him and gave Frances a flask of water. “Hold on, let me help you sit up.”
Frances wanted to protest, but she couldn’t even speak. That, and she couldn’t believe how weak she felt. She leant hard against Timur’s arm as he pressed her water flask to her lips.
From her sitting up position, Frances could see the boat tied to a jetty that stuck out into the river. Their supplies were on the bank, with a small tent set up.
They weren’t just in the middle of nowhere, though. All around them were remnants of a long deserted village. The doors were ripped off their hinges, and windows smashed. A few farm animals hung around the fences. There were even a few spare boats pulled up on the bank.
As she took in where they were, what happened in the fight quickly came back to her.
“Ti—” she swallowed. It hurt too much to speak, but she had so many questions. What were they going to do next? How did they survive? How were they both alive? Where was Edana and her friends and were they safe? What about Ivy’s Sting?
Timur must have seen her questioning on her face, because he took Ivy’s Sting and put the wand in her hand.
“Master! I’m so glad you’re awake. We were worried you wouldn’t wake up!”
“Thanks Ivy. I… I can’t speak. It hurts too much,” she thought to her wand.
“And that’s fine.” Frances blinked and glanced at Timur’s hand, which was still holding onto the tip of her wand. Hearing his thoughts through her wand was… odd. “You got hurt really badly. We managed to set the bones but we didn’t know how to heal them.”
“I do, but… my voice…” An upwelling of frustration fought to bring tears to her eyes, and she bit that down. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a day or two—”
“Master, you nearly died! You have a broken or fractured bone in every limb of your body! You’re going to need a professional healer or weeks to get better,” Ivy protested.
“But… but…” Frances swallowed. How would she move? How could they get to Morgan in time?
“Frances, I can get horses and a cart. Just rest. We’ll get to Morgan. Let me handle this.”
Her boyfriend smiled gently and Frances relaxed, but for only a moment.
“Wait, but Timur, your tail! You cut your tail off!” Frances’s thoughts went back to the battle. “And… how did we survive? I just remember your father… stabbing you with my sword.”
She could feel Timur and Ivy’s unsure, pensive ideas before they actualized into coherent thoughts.
“You threw him into the air, like… I think like a kilometer into the air,” thought Timur.
“And… you’re not going to believe this, but I think, well, we think you used Words of Power and song magic together. Like what Amura and Rathon did when they ascended into godhood,” said Ivy.
“Do you remember that, Frances?” Timur asked.
Frances’s eyes widened and she shook her head. She didn’t remember that at all. All she could recall was that she wanted to get the king away from Timur. And now Timur and Ivy were telling her she had performed some kind of magic that was essentially a myth?
Her boyfriend brushed some stray hair out of her face. “Hmm, well, we didn’t think you would remember it, but we’re sure glad you managed to do so.”
Frances opened her mouth, “Wait, but—” she burst into, hacking coughs. “Timur, what about your tail?” she thought.
Timur waggled his tail, which was thankfully whole, but to Frances’s dismay, anything above the cut he’d made seemed limp.
“I’ll live. Please, Frances, just get some rest. I just need to find a horse and a cart.”
Frances wanted to say otherwise. She didn’t want to just sit there and force Timur to have to take care of her. Her already empty stomach chose that moment to announce how empty it was. It didn’t even growl, it gave a faint gurgle that twisted in her gut.
Timur smiled. “I’ll be right with you.” Before he let Frances go, he propped her up against one of their haversacks so she could sit up. In a few minutes he was back with some hard biscuits and cheese.
Frances tried to lift her arms to grab the food, but Timur stopped her and to her embarrassment, broke the biscuits and fed her by hand.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked. She still felt like she wanted to hide under a blanket, but at least... at least Timur was taking care of her, and she was so relieved that he didn’t seem bothered.
Timur chuckled, “It’s alright. Just… let me take care of it, okay?”
Frances nodded, hating how pathetic her situation had become, and knowing that there was nothing she could do.
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To Frances’s absolute mortification, her broken limbs meant she could do almost nothing without Timur’s help, and that included getting up to relieve herself. Her only saving grace was that Timur had splinted her broken limbs tightly enough so she could actually do her business. After that though, she’d had to hold on to Timur in order to walk back.
It was while he was helping her limp back to her makeshift spot that the pain in her legs spread from where the breaks were, all the way up past her thighs and into her hips. She forced herself to keep putting one foot before the other.
Timur wasn’t fooled. Maybe it was her grip on him, or how she trembled with every step. He stopped.
“Frances? Are you alright?” he asked. Frances nodded, and forced a smile, but her boyfriend was not buying it and his brow furrowed.
“Are you… lying to me?” he demanded.
She swallowed and nodded once.
“Alright, I’m carrying you.” Unable to protest except to shake her head, Frances found herself lifted up in Timur’s arms. The prince grimaced at the strain, but managed to stomp back to their camp.
“You need to tell me when you’re hurting, Frances. Do you want your bones to set wrongly?” Timur asked once he put her down.
Frances couldn’t hide the sour look on her face. She did want to get better, but she hated how helpless she’d become. Even when she first arrived in Durannon, bruised and starving, she’d been able to walk on her two feet. Now she couldn’t even do that.
Timur sighed and sat down in front of her. “You almost got killed by my father because of me. It’s a miracle you survived.”
Frances blinked, grabbed Ivy’s Sting and pointed it at Timur. He stared at the wand for a moment before realizing what she meant, and grabbing the other end of the wand.
“What do you mean by it’s your fault?” she asked.
Timur averted his gaze. “Frances, I should have gotten you out of there, instead my father broke your limbs.”
Frances almost screamed, but her aching throat slammed her mouth shut. “What are you talking about? You nearly killed yourself because I couldn’t stop him! You cut off your own tail!” she bellowed into her wand. She apologized briefly for probably making Ivy’s Sting deaf in her mindscape, but she couldn’t believe what her boyfriend was saying.
“What are you… what was I supposed to do? Let you die?” Timur stammered.
“Yes! Because I can’t die!” she retorted.
“Are you crazy? That would mean you would go back to your parents!” Timur bellowed out loud.
“Better than you killing yourself for me!” Frances sniffled, almost in tears. “Timur, why do you think so little of yourself? Do you think I want to see you die?
“Well, why do you keep pretending to be alright when you aren’t?” he yelled.
“What do you even mean by that? I’m fine!” she shot back.
“You just got tortured by my father!” Timur yelled.
Frances raised her arm, and winced. Yet she still thrust her thoughts into her wand. “I am fine!”
“That’s not what you said in the conference! And that’s not what you look like right now!” Timur let go of the and stood up. “That’s it, if you need to go to the washroom, let me know but you’re sitting there. Good night!”
Frances growled and winced. Furious, she turned away from Timur and grabbed the blanket he’d left for her and pulled it over herself.
“Frances, is there anything I can do?”
“No. That’s… thank you for helping me speak. I’m sorry we were so loud. Good night, Ivy.” Frances put her wand beside her and shut her tear-filled eyes.
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When Frances woke up, it was still night. At first, she wasn’t sure why she’d awoken. She could hear the burble of the river, and the buzzing of the bugs. That regular, rhythmic sound however, had lulled her to sleep earlier.
Perhaps she’d woken up because she’d been sleeping for so long. Three days, as Timur had told her.
She forced herself to sit up, gasping as her arms and legs ached in protest. She hated this… being so helpless. Maybe that was why she’d yelled at Timur.
Because no, she was not fine. She’d lost so irrevocably that the only reason they were alive was because of a stroke of luck that she didn’t even remember. She’d lost and Timur had almost killed himself to stop his father from hurting her more.
Her hands were shaking and she grabbed them to stop it. She didn’t want to remember Thorgoth’s cold smile.
Suddenly, she heard sniffles. Looking around, Frances couldn’t see much through the dark, but she recognized the person crying.
Wincing, she grabbed Ivy’s Sting. She had to try healing her throat, at least a little. She wouldn’t be able to heal it completely, not without being able to sing for longer, but perhaps she could relieve the pain.
Touching her wand to her throat, Frances managed a reedy, raspy note. Although it was a very minor healing spell, she instantly felt the choking feeling lessen.
“Timur?” she asked. “Timur, are you alright?”
The sniffling stopped. “I… not really, but I… I don’t want to bother you. Oh dear, did I wake you?” His voice was coming from behind a nearby tree, and Frances could tell that he was sat up against it, his feet just peeking out from behind the trunk.
“No.” Frances took a deep breath. “Timur, you’re never a bother to me, and I’m sorry I was angry at you.”
“... I know.” Timur groaned. “I’m… I’m sorry I… I’m sorry for everything. For nearly killing myself, and for not being able to help you.”
Frances tried to get to her feet, and landed right back on her butt. Her hiss of pain brought Timur running over to her.
“Timur, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who lost. I… I…” She held Timur’s hand. “You brought me to safety and did your best to take care of me. I should have not put you in that position.”
Her prince snorted and wiped his eyes. “He… because I couldn’t get you out, he tortured you in front of me. Besides, you know all the Otherworlders were summoned to take him out, right?”
“I know, but Timur because I wasn’t strong enough, you had to cut your tail off.” Frances bowed her head. “I… I don’t blame you for trying to kill yourself, Timur. I blame myself for losing.”
Her prince blinked. “Then why were you angry at me?”
Frances sniffled. “Because I don’t want you to die for me, especially when I’m not going to die.”
Timur set his jaw. “And I won’t let my father send you to Earth, Frances. I know you are terrified of going back.”
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“I…” Frances met Timur’s narrowed eyes and averted her gaze. “But I don’t want you to die to prevent that. I… I am so glad that you love me, but because of that, your father used me against you.”
“And he did the same with you, Frances. Oh. Oh… I see.” Timur reached out and at her nod, he wrapped his arms around her. “My father… he really did a number on us.”
“I’m sorry—”
“I don’t think it’s either of our fault,” Timur said suddenly. He met Frances’s eyes. “You… you think you failed. I think I failed, but… it was my father who did this to us. We did our best and we survived.”
Frances found herself nodding. “I… I think you’re right. Only, it doesn’t feel that way.”
“I know,” Timur whispered, his hug stiffening just a bit. Frances waited for her prince to continue, but he said nothing.
“Timur? Do you want to tell me why you were crying?” she asked.
Her prince shivered, and a cold pit of dread opened in Frances’s stomach as he murmured. “It’s… it’s not worth it.”
That was it. Frances summoned the last of her strength and holding onto Timur, pulled herself up so she could gently kiss his cheek. He froze at that, his black eyes wide.
“Timur, I… I would go back to my parents, if it meant you living. You’re… you’re worth everything to me,” she rasped.
Her prince blinked, trying to hold back his tears. She could see emotions flitting across his face, and see him trying to dam his emotions up.
“It’s… it’s really nothing. I mean, you’ve had it so much worse and you’re not complaining about it. It’s stupid.”
“But it’s not stupid to complain or share… especially when you’re hurting. Holding it up inside is… it’ll just fester and get worse and…”
Frances blinked and her voice trailed off.
It clicked for Frances right then what she had to do. What she’d been inadvertently been trying to hold back all this time, and how that had not been helping, but just making things worse. It was so absurd that she burst out into a fit of giggling.
It wasn’t the happy giggling that Timur liked, though. Try as she might, she found herself starting to sob. The weight in her chest that she’d been carrying, the tight knot of anxiety and stress bound up since before the conference started shattered. Sobbing, she clung to her boyfriend and laughed, and cried, and laughed some more.
“Frances? What… did I say something wrong? Did I—”
“I’m such a stupid, fucking idiot!” she croaked.
“No you’re not—”
“Timur, I haven’t changed since I was thirteen! I’m still trying to hide and hide and run from who I am but I can’t. I thought I was better. I thought that if I helped my friends, did my duty, saved people, be a good girlfriend I’d feel better. I’d still be broken, but I could be happy. I thought I’d learn to be happy with who I was. But… I’m not. I’m still not happy with who I am. That’s why I’ve been so stressed, anxious and unhappy since the conference started.”
Timur stammered, “But… you are Frances Stormcaller, the bravest woman I’ve ever known. The only person who ever gave my father a hard time in a mage duel.”
Frances met Timur’s wide-eyed stare. “Yes, but… I still think I don’t deserve to be me. I just got better at lying to myself and to everybody else.”
Her boyfriend tried to say something and yet, while his mouth worked up and down, he remained speechless. Her confession had rendered him mute.
“So… you see, Timur, nothing you say will make you worthless to me because I… I still sometimes think of myself as a waste of space,” she sobbed.
Those words seemed to shock some life into her prince who tightened his embrace and planted kiss after kiss on her brow.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I… I thought you were… I thought…” He clung to her desperately as she sniffled into his chest. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Well, it’s not alright, but… hey… at least I’m not lying to myself about it.” Snorting, she sighed. “You don’t have to tell me now, but… please, I… I want to help you and… I won’t ever think badly of you.”
“But it’s so pathetic,” Timur stammered, his eyes now filling with tears. “Frances, I… I keep having nightmares about my father torturing you and I can’t… I can’t stop feeling scared of it happening and it’s stupid because we’ve already gotten away from it and it’s just a dream, but I can’t… every time I see him torturing you in my dreams I just feel so helpless and horrified, even though it’s just a dream.”
“But… those dreams sound horrible,” Frances whispered. “It’s normal for you to be scared by them.”
“But they’re just dreams, and my father isn’t even hurting me. He’s hurting you!” Timur trembled, wiping his tears with his arm. “You’re the one who got your arms broken and was nearly choked to death. I just… I just watched.”
Frances forced her arms up so she could hold Timur’s cheeks. “No, even if we ignore the fact that he made you cut your tail off, he hurt you. He knew exactly what he was doing. He did this all to me because he knows you care about me and that it would hurt you to watch.”
“That’s… we had a plan, I failed to save you,” he spluttered.
“Did you break my arms?” Frances demanded.
“No—”
“Did you break my legs? Did you threaten to rape me?” Frances smiled sadly as she saw Timur’s eyes widen. “No, your father knows you’re too brave, too self-sacrificing and honorable to ever value yourself over anybody else. It’s why he threatened Morgan instead of just threatening your life, and why he hurt me instead of torturing you. He knows the best way to hurt you is to harm those you opened your heart to.”
Timur’s tail flopped down on the ground, and his jaw dropped open.
“Holy fucking Galena you’re right. But… but that means… that means…”
“There is nothing wrong or pathetic with you crying or feeling bad about a nightmare, or what he did to me,” she said. She shut her eyes. “Timur, I… I can’t do much now, but… please… I swear I’ll help however I can. I love you and you’re a good, kind and caring Alavari, who carried me to safely, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you feel. Just like how you can’t help me if I don’t tell you what I feel. Nothing is too pathetic or silly.”
Timur took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I… I’ll try my best.”
“I know you will, and… I promise to do my best too,” Frances whispered, forcing herself to smile.
He mirrored her watery smile and leaned in, but didn’t meet her lips. She rose to meet him.
This kiss wasn’t tender like their first, or passionate like their night together. It was desperate, filled with grief and wobbly from mutual trembling.
And yet, after they parted, they kept holding on to one another as if for dear life, as if trying to form a whole from two broken parts.
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The next morning, Timur and Frances worked together as best they could on getting mobile again. Frances needed to see a professional healer and that meant they needed to get to civilization quickly.
Timur’s search last night had yielded two horses, but no intact wagons. All of the four-wheeled wagons had at least one wheel damaged. That had, however, led Frances to come up with an idea. With Ivy’s help, Timur had cut a wagon with awning in two, and modified it to create a cart.
All set, Timur lifted Frances into the back of the cart. The two then busied themselves with loading up their transport and figuring out a key question.
“So, I’m Tia Windlass, part troll with goblin blood to explain my eyes, and you’re Theo Greyland. I had a bad accident and need a healer. You are my husband,” said Frances, going over their cover stories. She’d already attached her fake ears to her
Timur nodded from where he was attaching the horses to the cart. “Yes. Hopefully they’ll buy the story long enough we can get our horses shoed and you healed.”
“Shoed? Ah, right, these horses don’t have horseshoes any more. They won’t be able to travel as well, right?” Frances asked.
“Mm hmm. And we’re all set.” Timur pursed his lips. “Frances, are you sure you should wear your White Order robes? I mean they are armored, but it’s not exactly inconspicuous.”
“I have an idea about that.” Nestled between the supplies, Frances yanked a blanket over herself and shuffled in. With her lying down and covered by the blanket, only her head peaked out slightly. “It’s a bit warm, but the weather is getting chilly.”
“Good point. Fall’s coming.” Timur leapt onto the cart’s seat, smoothed out his maroon jacket and grinned. “Figured out where to go?”
Frances nodded. “Yes. Have we forgotten—Oh! Timur, you need to change?”
The prince winced and sniffed his armpits. “Oh dear, I smell don’t I?”
“No, but you’re wearing your prince’s jacket,” said Frances, pointing at Timur’s gold-buttoned definitely-not-common folk maroon jacket.
“Whoops! Good catch, Frances.” Timur went behind Frances to change and she sniffed herself.
“Timur, um, is it just me, or do I smell alright for being in a coma for three days?” Frances asked, turning her head to look at her boyfriend over the cart wall.
Timur poked his head up from behind the cart sheepishly. “Um, about that. Ivy’s Sting insisted that I wipe you down and tell her that she was the one who insisted.”
Frances blinked as her wand piped up. “I’m sorry if you’re angry, master, but I thought it’s nothing that he hadn’t seen already and you were in a really bad way. Being stuck in stinking clothes wasn’t going to help. I can swear he didn’t see anything or touch anything he shouldn’t have.”
Frances felt her cheeks warm as Timur winced. She didn’t think he and her wand were wrong, though. In an odd way, she was kind of touched that Timur had taken so good care of her even when she was unconscious.
“Oh… okay.” She looked studiously away, before her gaze suddenly shot back to her boyfriend. “Timur… thank you. Um, you… you might need to help me again later.”
“Wait, you’re alright with that?” he spluttered.
Frances nodded once and then again, more firmly. “Yeah. I’m alright with that.”
Timur let out a sigh of relief and bounded back on the carriage, wearing a more typical woolen overcoat. “Alright, we all set, Frances?”
“Yes. Let’s go save your niece,” said Frances, grinning.
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From the maps that Timur had brought, Frances knew the journey to the Alavarian Academy of Magic would take them across two provinces. They were currently in the province of Oldaria, which bordered Lapanteria. Mainly an ogre-populated province, Oldaria’s key features were its flatlands and the many broad rivers that ran through it, which had made it difficult for the humans to invade. The war however had depopulated the province and so it would take at least five days to get to a town, and another week before they were in the next province. And that is if they made good time.
After calling Edana with her hand mirror and letting her relieved mother know she was as good as she could be, Frances had forced herself to try to get as much rest as she could. She’d never felt so tired, so closing her eyes was easy. Sleep eluded her, however. The roads in Oldaria were stone-paved, but nowhere near as smooth as Erisdalian roads. Thus, the ride was bumpy and as well-bundled as Frances was, it was hard to rest well.
So she and Timur had struck up a slow, aimless conversation as their cart and two horses trundled down the road. He asked her about Earth roads and motorways. She asked him about ogre culture. He told her a bit more about his mother, who’d given birth to him and just left him with his father, and how he’d never seen her since. She told him a little bit about her bullies.
In the evenings they camped on the roadside. There were too few of them to have a watch, and so their only option was to set alarm spells and have their weapons near.
And yet sleep didn’t come easily. Almost every night, Frances was woken up by one of Timur’s nightmares. She hated how she could barely do anything to comfort him, other than hold onto him and tell him she was safe and that it was alright for him to cry. If there was one positive thing out of that, it was that by the fourth night, Timur was more willing to ask for Frances to embrace him.
He was also more willing to press her on how she was feeling. For the most part… she did feel better after telling Timur. Just telling him her deepest fear had eased some of it. There were moments during the day that her boyfriend had to distract her from her melancholic introspection.
Because the fact of the matter was… Frances wasn’t sure why she disliked herself. The more she thought about possible reasons, such as her inability to control her temper sometimes, her low opinion about herself, and how she sometimes felt abnormal and broken, the more she couldn’t understand why she thought herself that way.
Similarly, Timur was struggling with the idea that he himself had worth and that it was alright for him to need things. So a common conversation they had was about why they felt certain things about themselves. The problem was that often these conversations often wound to the conclusion that neither really knew why they were feeling like this.
Frances still found it nice, though, to have someone she could confide in, and she saw in Timur’s pensive smile that he seemed to enjoy telling her too.
On the noon of the fifth day of travel, they saw the town. Timur’s map indicated it was called Acrone, but there was a complication.
“Timur, why does that town look like it’s a military base?” Frances asked. The walled town looked not too different from other examples she’d seen in the human kingdoms, but she could see an additional palisade on the outside along with defensive earthwork ditches and small redoubts covering key approaches.
The prince frowned. “Since we’re like a week’s march away from the border, they must have made the town a supply depot. Well… at least we know we’ll find a farrier.”
Frances nodded. “And maybe a healer. We’ll have to be careful, though.”
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Thankfully, Timur had prepared false papers for them and so getting into town was easy, if tense. They even found a very empty inn to stay for the night.
Frances stayed in the inn, resting in their shared room, whilst Timur went to get their horses shod and to see if he could find a healer. She used this time to call her friends.
That was when she found out about Titania’s rebellion.
“So Thorgoth’s forces are going to be divided… that’s a relief,” said Frances.
From a room in the town of Kwent, Ginger grimaced. “Yes, but you’re going to have trouble. It’s a civil war in Alavaria now and there will be fighting all over the roads.”
“Wouldn’t that chaos be useful to them, though? It’d mean they can slip by unnoticed,” Martin asked.
“In a way, but you recall the confrontation we had when we visited Keelcracker island? That was just because we were strangers visiting an isolated community. Think of what people are going to feel in a civil war,” said Ginger.
They were going to be very scared and probably be very quick to pull out weapons. Frances swallowed. “I understand. Thanks Ginger. Ayax, Elizabeth, do you have anything to add?”
The pair, who were in a simple roadhouse in Erisdale, glanced at each other.
Ayax pursed her lips. “Cuz, most Alavarians can be pretty friendly. It’s how I hopped across the country all the way to Erlenberg. But… the war probably has changed things. Don’t talk about the war unless asked about it, and don’t ask people about their personal lives.”
“Because…?” Frances asked.
“Alavari only ask people about our personal lives and opinions in certain places and occasions. On market day, while at home, over dinner, or when we’re drinking for example. When in public, we do ask if someone is doing well or not, but the typical answer is “yes, or it could be better.”
“Wait, Ayax, is this why you didn’t tell anybody about what happened to your parents?” Elizabeth asked.
The troll sighed. “Not… entirely. It’s more that I used it as a shield. So I didn’t have to talk to any Alavari about what I was feeling.”
Frances wished she could reach out and touch her cousin, but there was no way for her to do so. All she could was… well, talk.
“Thank you for sharing, and for letting me know, Ayax,” said Frances. She heard a knock at the room door. “I have to go, everybody. Stay safe.”
Ayax and Elizabeth waved. Ginger gave a thumbs up and Martin said, “Get better soon!”
She waved back and stowed her hand mirror into a pouch on her belt. She was out of her mage armor to blend in, yet she still wore her equipment belt on top of a plain green dress. Ivy’s Sting was hidden in a pocket on her dress. She looked exactly like how she should, a helpless troll-goblin with splinted arms and legs.
“Who is this?” she called out.
“Timur, with a healer,” said her boyfriend. Frances relaxed for a bit. Finally, she might be able to get back on her feet.
“Come in,” she rasped. Her throat still ached. Talking was fine, but singing was out of the question.
Timur opened the door and led in a very young Alavari, a little younger than Frances herself. Frances could tell from the girl’s six-fingered hands, stockier frame, and lack of a tail that she was an ogre rather than a troll. Yet, despite her youth, the healer carried a rather large backpack and her black eyes were already scanning Frances.
“You said your wife was hurt in an accident? What kind of accident?” the healer asked as she set her pack down.
“She was trampled by a bunch of oxen that got loose. She put up a shield so none of them stomped on her body, but they got her limbs, and she strained her throat doing it,” said Timur. That was the story they’d agreed on, as neither of them could think of a convincing way to explain it.
The ogre healer examined Frances’s splinted arms and legs with narrowed eyes. “What did you say your name was?”
“Tia,” said Frances, keeping her smile pasted on her face. She wasn’t sure why, but she could tell the ogre was getting suspicious. “And you are?”
“Jane. Can I roll your dress up?” Frances nodded and Jane carefully looked at her splinted legs. The healer then asked Frances to open her mouth and gently prodded her neck, observing Frances’s wince at her touch.
Then, after finishing her examination, for whatever reason, Jane frowned and looked back between Frances and a nervously smiling Timur.
“So um, Jane, can you heal my wife?” Timur asked, clasping his hands behind his back.
Frances studied the ogre. Jane’s eyes were flickering between her and Timur. Her shoulders were stiff and she was breathing too consciously. It was as if she was trying to keep calm. As quietly as she could, Frances inched her hand towards her pocket, a spell already in her mind
“Um, I don’t think I can heal your wife’s throat, but I can fix her legs and arms.” Jane got up and shifted for the door, keeping both eyes on Timur and Frances. “What did you say you did for your job again?”
“I’m a clerk. My wife is a small-time mage. She’s a song mage, though, and can’t really heal herself with a damaged throat,” said Timur.
Frances smiled pleasantly at Jane, and froze as the ogre’s eyes widened.
Timur saw it too. He immediately moved in front of the door before Jane spun around.
“I’ll scream,” the ogre hissed.
“Dear Jane, for whatever reason would you be screaming?” Timur asked nonchalantly.
The ogre swallowed. “You can’t be a clerk. You don’t have ink underneath your fingernails that one usually has. She is probably a mage, but she’s… I’ve treated quite a few soldiers and she has the legs of one. Used to riding and marching. That and your throat… you didn’t strain it, someone almost strangled you to death. Same as your breaks. An oxe would crush bone but those breaks look more like… like someone stepped on you. You’re both lying about who you are.”
Frances pursed her lips and lowered her wand, but didn’t let go of Ivy’s Sting. “We’re not telling you the whole truth, but we can pay handsomely for your services, especially if you don’t ask any further questions.”
“And it would be safer for you if you don’t know the truth,” added Timur, putting his raised hands down.
Jane glanced between Frances and Timur before asking, “Are you with… with Titania’s side?”
Frances’s smile faded. This was too dangerous. She wasn’t sure why Jane was demanding so many answers, but they’d crossed from healthy suspicion into downright dangerous knowledge. She raised her wand.
“Wait, trust me on this,” said Timur. As Frances blinked, Timur took a deep breath. “Yes, we’re on Queen Titania’s side.”
Jane remained quiet for a long, tense moment.
Then the ogre sighed and nodded. “Alright, I’ll heal you.”
Timur grinned and extended his hand to shake Jane’s, while Frances blinked. “Huh?”
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