Tom is spirit-touched.

Diavla didn't know what to make of that. She watched him go over and talk to the other man. Is he an untrained Healer? Or something else? What are his affinities? That must be how he knew not to touch the crystals, she realized. But why would he hide that?

Diavla grimaced at her hypocrisy. I didn't have a good reason to keep my abilities from Tom, but I did it, anyway. That's going to be an interesting conversation, later…

“So,” Eubexa said very quietly, “you are spirit-touched.”

…and an interesting conversation now, Diavla realized wryly.

“Yes.” They both kept their voices down, taking advantage of the humans' bad hearing to stay unnoticed. Diavla had her hood up, and stood behind the empty wagon, near Eubexa's head. The sickly elf was staying very still, and in her gray clothing was fairly boring to the eyes.

“The Master did not know this?”

“No.”

“I see. You're a Healer. That's how Master survived the bandit attack.”

Diavla paused, uncertain of Eubexa and wondering how much of the truth to reveal. “Close enough,” she conceded. “We thought it unwise to let any humans know there was a Healer among us.”

“Good.”

Diavla arched an eyebrow. “Good?”

“You were smart. I was beginning to think that the lot of you were hopelessly naive. What are you going to tell him later?”

Diavla thought for just a second. “The truth. That's I'm half-trained and don't have strong affinity for Healing. If Tom didn't have a magnificent constitution, he'd have been dead anyway.”

They both fell silent when the city guards showed up. Diavla watched, fascinated by the rune blocks the spirit-touched human was setting up around the edges of the wagon bed. After a few minutes, Tom got the ox ready and very slowly drove the wagon out of the lot, with guards on all sides and the scholar fidgeting nearby. They waited until the last guard was out of sight before resuming the conversation.

“So, the cargo is dangerous.”

“We suspected, but didn't know. That's why Tom hired the man from their temple.”

“He's going to get hauled up before the Lord of the City. Possibly arrested,” Eubexa observed, calmly. “City Lords don't take kindly to people who bring dangerous magics into their cities. Where are the slave tokens?”

“Hidden.”

“Do you know where?”

“Yes.”

“Can you bring another human to them within a week?”

“If it proves necessary.” Diavla did her best not to snap at the sick elf.

“Just wondering if I'm going to die in a week, is all. Nothing important.”

Diavla held onto her temper with effort. “You've been through ten times, no, a hundred times, the demon lands we've gone through, and I know you're in constant pain. But please don't speak of Tom as if he is disposable. He is not.”

“I'm not the one who might dispose of him.”

“Let us not ask the moneylender to loan us trouble. Tom is a good man and a good speaker. He will talk his way clear.”

“And if he doesn't?”

“In that case, I have access to enough gold to buy his freedom—one way or another. We would not find a better Master than Tom, if we searched half the continent. I'm not giving him up.”

“Very well.” Eubexa fell silent after that. Diavla sat down on the wagon bed near her. The veil did an excellent job of hiding Eubexa's expressions. It was hard to know what was going through her mind.

A few minutes later, Diavla sighed. “I guess we can head to the temple now.”

“No.” Diavla turned to stare at Eubexa, who was shaking her head. “We should wait at least an hour. It will take that long for the mages to run around in circles figuring out what to do, and we don't want to drive up when the same guards are still there, or they will remember us and wonder why we are following them.”

Diavla took a deep breath. “That makes sense.”

“The Master said that one of my duties was to teach the rest of you Western. Would you care for a lesson to pass the time?”

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

Eubexa was a mediocre teacher, but grudgingly admitted that Diavla was a quick learner. By the time an hour had passed, Diavla had corrected a couple of dozen mistakes in her vocabulary and gained some more simple sentence structures, along with scores of new words. She recited them dutifully, until she was fairly sure she would remember them.

Seeking a break, she asked, “Have you seen much of Rivermarch, Eubexa?”

“Yes, but not since I got sick four years ago. In the early days, I was sometimes rented for outings. It's a fairly nice city, as the human lands go. The Library is beautiful, the South Playhouse had some amazing performers, Sally's Sweets…” Eubexa fell silent. Diavla waited, but she didn't finish her sentence.

It's a tender spot in her soul. Diavla turned that over in her thoughts, then nodded. “Are you all right where you are, when I move the wagon?”

“Yes, but it's too soon to go to the temple.”

“We're not going to the temple yet. Hang on, back there. I'll drive slow.”

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Eubexa helped her talk to the lot attendant, and within a few minutes, they were on their way. “Where are we going?” the sick elf asked.

“You'll see.” Diavla didn't need to ask for directions; between her memory, and orienting based on the Keep and the river, it wasn't too hard to find the right spot. She brought the wagon as close to the entrance as she could without blocking foot traffic.

“What…what are you doing?” Eubexa asked, staring up at the shop front for Sally's Sweets.

“I want some cheesecake,” Diavla declared. “What would you like?”

“You can't…you can't just…they'll throw you out!” Eubexa protested.

“No, they won't. We're giving them plenty of custom, and they know us.” Diavla settled the animal, climbed down, and walked around to the back. “Now, do you want me to help you inside, or shall I bring you descriptions of what they have on offer?”

“I…you can't just spend that kind of money, can you?”

“I assure you, in Tom's eyes I own fifteen gold and I have access to all of it at their bank, if needed.”

“Their bank…the Treasury, you mean? You stored your coin there?” Diavla nodded. “And you have access to Tom's box?” She nodded again. “How much…?”

“Enough,” Diavla said, cutting her off. “At any rate, I have plenty on my person to pay for as much indulgence here as we like. So, shall I help you down?”

“No, getting back up would be very difficult.”

“All right, then, I'm going to bring you something, so you might as well tell me what you would prefer.”

“Saa…butter cookies?”

Diavla started to nod, then caught herself. “Did you just pick the cheapest sweet they have?”

“No, of course not.” The veil was a perfect gaming face, but Diavla was suspicious.

“All right, then, I'll bring you butter cookies, but I am also going to bring you their most expensive dessert unless you tell me something else.”

Eubexa didn't answer at once. Diavla shrugged and turned to enter. Then the sick elf's voice grew a bit louder. “Could you see…if…they have apple tarts?”

Diavla turned and gave her an encouraging smile. “Absolutely.”

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

It turned out that they did have apple tarts, and Eubexa did her best to hide her emotional reaction. She also ate two entire tarts, which was more than she had eaten of the bird meat sticks. Diavla pretended not to hear the sniffling.

Finally, Eubexa cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said in a broken whisper.

Diavla swallowed a mouthful of cheesecake, and was about to eat another spoonful, when she made herself pause long enough to answer. “You're welcome.” She bit down on the delicious wet softness, and let the flavor spread through her mouth, the sweet heaviness easing a desperate craving.

“Diavla, I'm not objecting, but…isn't that a lot of cheesecake to be eating in one sitting?”

“Is it?” Diavla mumbled around a mouthful. “I'm not feeling full. Though I am craving more meat, oddly.”

“It's considered a heavy dessert, and possibly a tenth part of that is a large serving for most.”

Diavla paused, looking at the more than half-eaten cheesecake in her lap. “Hm. I ate this much yesterday, too. It didn't spoil my dinner, either.” She took another bite, this one more thoughtfully.

“Didn't it upset your solids?”

Diavla quirked an eyebrow, then placed a hand to her stomach. “No. Which…is odd,” she conceded. “The last I checked, I was totally healthy.”

“You can check health?”

Diavla froze for just a moment, then admitted, “Yes. It is wearying, but I can at least identify sickness. That's why I'm not worried about catching your disease: I can tell when I have cleaned enough.”

“But then, we don't have to waste money at the temple, since you can identify everything.”

“I already did, while you were asleep. There is a lot wrong with your body, Eubexa. And I can do nothing to fix it.”

“No one can fix my body. Let's not waste the gold at the temple.”

“Eubexa, why are you so concerned about the cost?”

“Because Master is eventually going to realize how useless I am and that I am not worth the expense! And then what happens to me? The more I cost him, the sooner he will tire of me!” Eubexa was almost hissing. She sounded angry, bitter, and frightened. Diavla set her spoon down and faced the other elf squarely.

“You misjudge Tom.”

“You have known him less than two weeks, and no disrespect to you, Diavla, but you have lived a fairly sheltered life. I have seen what people are really like.”

“You have seen the worst of people,” she corrected.

“The worst is who they are, in the end.”

Diavla shook her head. “You know better than that. Your recent horrible suffering has clouded your eyes.”

“Easy for you to say; Master looks on you with desire. I am hideous.”

“Tom is hewn of stronger wood than that.”

“You don't know that. You see what you want to see.”

Diavla sighed. “Give it time. You'll learn, if you are willing. For the moment, we will follow Tom's instructions. I want to see how human Healers work, and you are a perfect opportunity for that. I also want to listen and see if we can find out what happened at the temple with the crystals without asking too many questions.”

Diavla looked at the cheesecake, and reluctantly set it aside. After considering a moment, she went back into the shop and bought a big bag of beet cookies for herself, for later. Provisioned with that, she climbed back onto the wagon seat and got the ox moving. It wasn't far from Sally's Sweets to the temple, and when they arrived, there was no sign of the crystals wagon.

Diavla hurried into the temple, and looked around for someone who worked there. It didn't take very long to find a Wise Woman who said something elaborate in Western. Diavla waved her hands for the human to stop talking.

“I am sorry. I speak very small Western again. I have sick elf. Very sick, big time. I want you see, maybe you heal, please?”

“Where is your Master?” the Wise Woman asked.

“He is …not… here now. He will go…no, he come here soon. I have coin. Please help.”

“Where is (something) sick elf?”

“In wagon, out the side. Foot bad, very slow. Help go in?”

The Wise Woman summoned an aide, who followed Diavla outside, called a boy to take care of the ox, and then carried Eubexa into the temple and into a small room lit by three rock lights. Diavla had to squint hard against the glare, and wondered whether Eubexa had it easier behind her veil. The aide spoke to them for a minute, and Eubexa answered. Diavla only caught a few words of the exchange, but it sounded like polite conversation. Then the aide brought in a few buckets and left them alone.

“He said the Healer needs time to recover from his last patient and we will have to wait a while,” Eubexa translated.

“When the Healer comes in, please explain that I am a physicker in training and eager to learn all I can. I'm going to sit back and meditate; hopefully, the spirits will help me see what's going on.”

“If the Healer is a powerful one, won't he notice you calling on the spirits?”

Diavla hesitated, then shrugged. “Another thing to learn. I have to try something to make progress. We tried talking with Tom about magic, but language was too much of a wall. I have no idea how humans do magic.”

“I know a little. Humans divide their spirit-touched into different groups. They have mages and devouts.”

“What's the difference?”

“Devouts worship groupings of spirits they call gods. Mages think that there are no spirits in their magic. Put simply, the humans think that spirit-touched elves are all devouts and spirit-touched dwarves are all mages.”

“What does that translate to in human magic? Which kind call on spirits of Healing, for example?”

“Usually the devouts, but there are exceptions.”

“So, humans restrict themselves in what spirits they call on?”

“I think it's more that the ones with certain affinities come to believe they are mages, and so forth. If spirits of Healing listen to you, for example, they call you a devout, usually of Barsel or Dalath.”

“So, humans would call me a mage, then? Not a devout?”

“I… think so? I'm not completely sure of any of this, mind you, it's just what I picked up from random bits of conversation over the years.”

“Hm.” Diavla mulled that over. “I wonder if I could get lessons, pretending I'm just curious and not spirit-touched at all.”

“I could ask, but I'd have to translate for you the whole time and I don't know very much about magic.”

“Well, please ask them about the price, at least.”

“Very well.”

“Thank you.” Diavla sighed. “I hope, at the least, that they can make you more comfortable, Eubexa.”

Eubexa was quiet for a long time. Diavla was about to settle back and meditate when the sickly elf finally murmured, “Thank you,” in a soft, broken voice.