[Lady] Saphora is in Gilead.
I work my jaw, trying to find the right phrases to put my discomfort into words. I’d all but forgotten about her in the aftermath of our harrowing fight in Halmuth, the long trek across the Barrens in the rainy season, fleeing from Loch LaMara, stumbling across an entirely new people from a Rift, and patching up Natan with the most glorious Skill I’ve ever received.
Her schemes to steal the rulership from [Lord] Dimitri were bad enough, but I’ll never forgive her for kidnapping Lionel. I won’t hold back if we run across her again.
“Does that change anything? We don’t have time for revenge. We’re here to fix you up,” Melina says, gesturing to my left arm. She puts a hand on my shoulder, shaking me out of my whirlpool of endless thoughts. Her brows are furrowed in concern.
“Actually, we . . . Ahem. Let’s get to our inn and then we’ll talk,” I say with an awkward shuffle of my feet, glancing back and forth between my teammates.
“Nuri’s hiding something again. On a mission from the big boss, huh?” Lionel says, chuckling.
“I’ll never be free,” I mutter.
Azariah gives me a sharp look, but doesn’t say anything. He’s been strangely quiet ever since he found out that I know the [Viceroy]. Setting a brisk pace, he guides us to our inn. For once, he holds his peace, no matter how much he looks like he wants to dig into my secrets. Maybe his Skill is warning him off.
We get set up with rooms, and Azariah surprises us by announcing that he’s taking his leave. “Orav and I are headin out. Trainin. You’ll have to get a new guide for your trip home.”
“You’re leaving during the rainy season? I thought you’d stick around with us,” Lionel says. His shoulders slump, and I can tell he’s going to miss the irascible [Pathfinder].
Azariah clears his throat. “Yep. Just don’t tell the guild that you came in with me. I’m not exactly popular with those folk.”
Just like that, Azariah leaves. Striding off in a cloak of smoke, he drags Orav behind him before we can bid them farewell.
“Not one for goodbyes, huh?”
I pat Lionel’s shoulder. “It’s all right. He feels bad about it. He’s not even masking himself from my Domain—I think that means he wants us to know. That’s about as emotional as that old codger gets.”
“Thanks, Nuri. I’ll miss those rascals,” Lionel says fondly. He rubs his nose. “All right. Tell us what’s up so that I can distract myself from feeling sentimental.”
“Rakesh, would you do the honors?”
Our [Researcher] nods, happy to answer my request for privacy. The inversion of [Echo of the Songbird] silences us, ensuring that no casual eavesdropping will work. As soon as I confirm no one unreasonably strong is within range of my Domain, I fill in the team.
“Something suspicious is going on with the Menders. [Chief Inquisitor] Xharrote says the order is building political alliances and stockpiling weapons. My primary goal is to investigate their doings and get a clear idea of what’s going on. According to the [Inquisitors], I’m an ideal candidate because of the extensive damage I’ve taken physically, and to my core and channels. I have a clear and legitimate reason to be here. I’m also not an actual [Inquisitor], so I’m less likely to raise their suspicions.”
Melina scowls. “You agreed to this foolishness? I knew something was going on, but this is more involved than seems wise.”
“I didn’t have a lot of choice,” I protest, more heat in my voice than I intend. More than Melina deserves. “If I wanted to clear my name and pay back my debt, I had to go along. You’re all aware that I stole something from the Rift—look, nevermind. Old news. Less you know about everything, the better. But I have to follow up on this lead, and I want everyone to help.”
Melina crosses her arms, leaning against the wall and giving me a prim look. “I always figured you had some arrangement like that, but really! Couldn’t you share it with us sooner?”
I sink down into a chair with a groan, exhausted from the last few days. “Sorry. Look, I got distracted by all the other stuff we had to do first. Mahkaiaraon was our test run, so I wasn’t sure if we’d even continue on to Gilead or not. You passed, by the way. I had so much on my mind after that—I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better about communicating.”
“How’d you know [Lady] Saphora would be here?” Lionel asks. He looks queasy, shifting in seat with his eyes darting around, as though he’s about to make a break for it.
“I didn’t. But I’ll bet it’s connected. You all saw the way she tried to stage a coup. That’s a strange line of business for a [Healer].”
“Are you all right? You look feverish.” Melina steps over to Lionel and places a hand on his forehead, clucking her tongue as he squirms away.
“Just . . . don’t wanna run into her.”
“You never told us what she did to you,” Mikko says. He grips the armrest of his chair so hard that I’m afraid it’s about to splinter in his grasp.
“I’m fine,” Lionel says, too hastily.
“Should I trail her?” Rakesh asks. “I’ve got some experience with reconnoitering.”
I tap my fingers on the armrest of my chair, considering our options. “No. Let’s get settled and see the Menders first. We need to figure out how long of a wait time we’re looking at before they’ll see us. For all we know, it will be months.”
“Months!” Mikko explodes. “I told ma we’d be back in half a year, tops. We’re pushing the halfway point soon. She’s not gonna be happy, Nuri.”
“Oh, I can think of some good news that might distract her from her disappointment,” I reply, winking at my brother.
He doesn’t take the bait.
I sigh. “Fine. If it comes down to it, then I can probably use my Writ to gain an audience if we’re in a bad spot. I’d rather not let them know that I’m associated with the Royal Army, but it’s helpful to have just in case. In the meantime, why don’t you find a smithy? Mel, you and Ava look for a glass studio. Rakesh? I’ll need your researching prowess. Sync up with your big Skill. Get to a library, too, if you can find one with public access.”
“What about me?” Lionel asks, still looking on edge. His eyes dart back and forth, finding the windows and doors as though he’s calculating escape vectors.
I chuckle. “Oh, you’ll like this part.”
“You’ve got a scheme, don’t you?” he says, squinting at me. “Not sure if that should be a relief or a terror. Your last few have been pretty scary. But after your [Sanctuary] worked out so well, I guess I gotta trust that you know what you’re doing. You’ve come a long way, Nuri. Don’t tell the others, but I’m proud of you.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, Lio. I won’t tell them that you’re going soft in your old age. But since you asked about my plan: You’re coming with me to the Menders. We’ve gotta find a way to get you a teacher. If I show them how destroyed I am internally, but tell them that you’ve kept me patched up, then I’ll bet they’ll take an interest in you.”
Lionel grimaces. “Uh, pass.”
“What! Why? That’s a great idea.”
“No, it’s a terrible idea, Nuri.” He rubs his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Look, let me spell this out for you. If you paint me as some miracle-worker, they’re going to expect me to show off something grand or exotic. All I have are the most basic healing Skills out there. Not a chance they believe me that I’ve done something useful. I have no talent to commend me.”
“Gold usually does the trick,” I say, waggling my eyebrows at Lionel. “I’m confident. Why aren’t you? Once we start selling imbued glass items, we’ll rake in a ton of money. We can buy our way in if all else fails.”
“Oh, I’m sure no one’s ever thought of that before. Nuri. Think this through. Do you know how many people in this city are a thousand times richer than you are? If they can’t get in, then neither can we.”
The crunch of someone chewing distracts me from answering. I glance over to my right to see the Linas sharing a bag of toasted nuts. Based on the glistening appearances, I’ll wager they’ve been dipped in honey. I frown at the twins. “Are you seriously watching us argue for entertainment? You broke out the snacks for this?”
Avelina shrugs. “What? You’re pretty funny when you’re annoyed. But you should listen to Lio. He’s making better points than you are for once.”
I take a deep breath and hold it to the count of five before I exhale and hold up my hand in mock surrender. “Noted. My plans need some refinement.”
“We can still ask about the entrance times and requirements. I’d be happy to join you for a stroll around the Menders campus,” Lionel says by way of peace offering.
“Thanks, buddy. I knew I could count on you.”
“I still think we’re doomed,” Lionel says. He leans over and snatches one of the honey roasted nuts, tossing into his mouth and chomping down with a look of pure bliss. “But, hey, what are friends for?”
=+=
“This way, please.”
“Right now?” I ask, taken aback by my abrupt entry into the Menders. Queuing up took a while, but as soon as we reach the front desk, they wave us onward.
“Yes, an [Apprentice Healer] will review your symptoms and triage your case. He’ll take care of everything from there. We’ll give you an assigned [Healer] after that depending on the severity of your illness or wounds. Missing a limb automatically moves you up the list.”
The woman who meets us at the front desk of the Menders campus recites the words in a monotone voice laced through with bone-weary boredom, as though she’s delivered the speech a thousand times already this week.
Maybe she has, I think as I look at the long line snaking through the lobby and stretching out the door. We waited for an hour just to reach the doorway, and then another two hours once inside the building.
I get moving, following the [Apprentice Healer] who waves to Lionel. He’s young, maybe fifteen, which means he’s still fairly new to his Class. On the one hand, that makes me skeptical that he can help me, given my long list of strange ailments and afflictions, but on the other, it makes me think he’s likely to be a child prodigy. If an exalted group like the Menders accepted him at his age, with only an Apprentice version of the Class, then he’s likely more talented than Lionel will ever be even with the full Class.
I keep those thoughts to myself.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
We scurry down a bright white hallway, illuminated evenly by a profusion of mana lamps every few steps. Shadows simply don’t exist inside the Menders buildings. Every single sense is pampered: pleasant aromas drift down the open hallways; the architecture and decoration are sublime; soft, soothing music makes everyone relax; and even the low benches we sat on when we were tired of standing were luxuriously plushy. I’ll bet the food tastes great, too.
Everything about the Menders is resplendent, inside and out. Although I’ve seen a great many wonders in my travels, the graceful buildings of the Menders campus still sent a thrill of wonder through me when I first caught sight of them earlier in the day. The enormous, imposing dome surrounded by flying buttresses is visible from just about anywhere in the central district of Gilead, and immediately drew our attention when Lionel and I crossed the bridge over the river Saski. Dividing the city in two, the Saski marks the upscale areas from the working class regions of Gilead.
The Menders are decidedly upscale.
“The second door on your right, if you please,” the [Apprentice Healer] says in calm and professional tones. His voice is still high, although he sports a downy mustache, but he presents himself with all the self-possessed assurance of a seasoned veteran in this line of work.
We enter the designated room, and I immediately note the scented candles burning in the corner. They release a mana-enhanced aroma that makes me want to smile and lie down on the bed to my left. Two chairs are arranged on the right, overstuffed and upholstered in shades of blue and green that remind me of an ocean on a summer day.
“Who’s the patient? You both look well.” Our assigned Mender pauses, and for the first time, a mischievous hint enters his voice. “Are you sure you’ve come to the right place?”
I hold up my left arm. “Anything you can do about this? Or am I too late?”
“I’m teasing, of course. You think we have time for intake forms? We scanned you with an enchantment on the way in the door. Your insides appear impaired. As for your missing hand? Hmm. Depends. Do you have the rest of the appendage? Reattaching is easiest in the first forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Less in an un-Classed individual, and considerably longer for anyone who has ascended to the Second Threshold. You don’t look like you have.”
“I don’t. My hand was completely obliterated. Mana accident,” I say with a shrug, trying to look appropriately apologetic. “Same thing that tore apart my channels. Impaired is putting it lightly.”
“Sorry to hear that. Sounds tragic,” the [Apprentice Healer] says, still in the same tone of voice that seems too old for his years. He scratches down a few notes. “Why don’t you sit on the bed while we examine you? We can take a look at your hand, but a magical prosthetic is likely your best course of action. Regenerating flesh and bone is not trivial, unfortunately.”
I follow orders and sit on the bed. As expected, it’s extremely comfortable, and I have to fight the urge to stretch out and take a nap. “Not even with the Azure Rod?”
The [Apprentice Healer]’s professional façade finally cracks. He actually laughs before he clears his throat and dons the mask of the calm, caring Mender. “Possibly, but the head of the Menders is an extremely busy woman. She travels across Densmore, and occasionally to other countries, to heal the worst cases imaginable. I don’t mean to sound rude, but there’s almost no chance of gaining an audience.”
“We have some gold,” I say, trying to fight off a rising tide of desperation. “I’m not looking for charity.”
He smiles sadly. “So does everyone else. Look, I’m sorry, but it’s not likely. I haven’t met the headmistress during my entire time here. Nearly three years without a meeting.”
I nod numbly, even though I expected as much. It still stings to hear the words with such finality. It was nice to dream that I might get lucky.
“I’ll try to slot you in tomorrow with our prosthetics team as long as your vitals check out,” the [Apprentice Healer] says. A genuine look of sympathy softens his eyes, and he sighs. “Best I can do. I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate it. Hey, do you have any [Healers] who specialize in the metaphysical? I’m also looking to repair my core and channels, as your scan revealed. Everything got destroyed during the accident. I’ve never been able to use my Skills properly ever since then.”
His eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “The scan said something was wrong, but that’s way worse than I feared. Wow! To check your internal health, I need to initiate physical contact. Is that all right?”
I nod, and he reaches out to place a hand on my chest, just below my rib cage but above my navel. A pulse of mana rolls down his arm and into me; it spreads out, like water filling a jar, and reverberates through me three times before returning to the apprentice.
“How . . . how are you still alive?” Sheer horror crosses his face. “I thought you might be joking, or trying to lie your way into an appointment with a higher-level [Arcane Healer] even if the scan said you were impaired. But you actually burned yourself out. I don’t understand how you’re walking around and smiling. I’ve only read about this, but by all accounts, most people with your, um, malady die in miserable pain.”
I smile mysteriously. “The pain was pretty bad for a few months. I’ll give you that. But I’m tougher than I look, so I pulled through. What’s an [Arcane Healer], anyway? Could someone really restore my connections to the metaphysical realm?”
“Theoretically,” the [Apprentice Healer] hedges. “Please wait here. I’ll bring my superior in for a look. I don’t want to get your hopes up, though. It’s still rare.”
“But easier than regrowing a hand?” I ask, chuckling incredulously. “That seems like it’s simpler to me, but what do I know?”
“Strangely, yes. Repairing damage is always easier than regenerating something after it’s gone. We have specialists who deal with metaphysical injuries, but they aren’t usually on staff. They accept contracts, and they can be picky, or so I’ve heard. Please don’t be angry with me if it doesn’t work out.”
“I understand,” I say quietly. I slump back on the bed, staring up at the off-white ceiling and not replying when Lionel asks me a question.
Time seems to lose its meaning. I don’t know how long I look up. My eyes unfocus after some indeterminate time, leaving me with the overwhelming sensation that I’m staring into an undefined, pale abyss.
Blinking back tears, I take in a deep breath and sit up. Life is no different now than it was before we talked with the apprentice. I’ve got my cores and an astonishing set of powerful Skills that go well beyond what I’d expect in the First Threshold.
Most valuable of all, I’ve got the best friends in the world. My brother and the rest of the team are always looking out for me. They’ve been patient despite my mistakes as a leader, and they’ve never once complained about leaving behind home and careers in order to support my mad ideas.
By the time the [Apprentice Healer] returns with his superior, Lionel and I are laughing and cracking jokes, just like old times.
“Good day, gentlemen. I am Mender Uttara, a lifelong [Healer] in service to the order. I hear that my little apprentice believes that you’re a candidate for a consultation with one of our metaphysical experts?”
“Correct. I’m Nuri. Thank you for your kindness, Mender Uttara,” I say, offering a bow to the jovial [Healer]. He’s got a neat goatee and bushy black eyebrows, which lends him a slightly roguish look. “Do you happen to know how long it may take to receive approval for a consultation? I was under the impression that it might be a lengthy wait.”
“Under most circumstances, yes. But from what I understand, you’re quite the intriguing case. Nuri, may I verify what my apprentice found when he sounded out your vitals?”
“Please,” I say, surreptitiously activating my Viewing while he repeats the process. I’m curious to see what he’s doing with the mana, but it turns out that it’s not truly a Skill. What he’s doing is more like the Viewing technique—pure mana sense manipulation—by running his mana through my body to map out the results. It’s similar to what Lionel’s Aunt did after the jaguar attack back in Silaraon, but on a more complex level.
“Can anyone learn how to perform a Sounding?” I ask, hoping that I don’t put him off by sounding overly eager. “Seems like that technique is pretty useful.”
“Interested in becoming a [Healer]?” Mender Uttara says, speaking in a jocular way that makes it clear that he’s not putting any stock at all in the idea.
“No, but my best friend here has taken the Class. Lionel kept us patched up on the road during the long trek. He’s hardworking, courageous, and cool under pressure.”
“Oh? As your second Class?” Uttara says absently, still sending waves of mana through me. Unlike the three cursory waves that his apprentice utilized, these are far more numerous and complex. They itch inside me, which makes me wonder if Uttara’s mana is aspected.
“Yes. I took it after a monster irruption,” Lionel explains, looking a bit bashful. Usually, he’s the most outgoing and shameless of all of us, but it seems like I embarrassed him when I bragged about how much he helped us on the journey.
“Well done! Not many show that kind of initiative, [Healer] Lionel,” Uttara says with a sly grin. He finishes his Sounding, and turns to Lionel. “Where are you from, again? We don’t get many irruptions here in Gilead. Somewhere in the Barrens?”
“We’re borderlanders,” Lionel says. “Rifts are more common out there. Everyone works so hard to protect each other. I wanted to do my part to keep them alive.”
“Fascinating! A very long trip indeed. Many weeks, if not months. That’s dedication to get all the way out here. Tell me, Lionel. Are you self-taught?”
I look back and forth between them, surprised that Mender Uttara has elected not to go over the results of his Sounding with me. Maybe he’s just not interested, since he’ll send me for a consultation
I give Lionel an encouraging gesture. He shrugs back helplessly, as if to apologize that I have to wait for the verdict.
Lionel straightens up and nods at Mender Uttara. “Mostly. My Aunt is a [Healer], so she guided me as much as she could, but she taught herself, originally. I’d be interested in learning more in a formal setting someday.”
Mender Uttara picks up a scalpel from a tray on a nearby counter. He holds out his hand and makes an incision, enough to draw blood but not enough to slice a tendon. “Go on, Lionel.”
Lionel doesn’t hesitate. He pulls out a clean bit of gauze from his belt pouch, wipes off the blood, applies a poultice, and binds up the wound. Only then does he place his hand over the cut and cast his [Healing Touch], in addition to [Lesser Neutralizing Touch].
“Excellent instincts using mundane methods first! Most students here are afraid of blood. If there’s not a magical fix, then they won’t even attempt healing. Would you believe it? Bunch of useless cowards.”
“I try to be practical, but I don’t blame them. Magic is incredible,” Lionel says. “When you watch people die because you can’t do enough—” He grows silent, his voice choking.
Memories of the [Hunters] bleeding out, torn to shreds by the Oletheros, flood my mind. I get up from the bed and squeeze Lionel’s shoulder. “Stop, Lio. You can’t blame yourself. You did more than could have been expected.”
“That sounds like a story and a half. I’d like to hear it later, if you’re willing to share more, Lionel. Now, as for my patient: I have good news and bad news. Which do you prefer first?”
“Bad,” I answer instantly.
“Very well. Your body has acclimated to your missing hand. It is almost impossible for us to ‘suggest’ that it should return to its original state. You’ve found equilibrium, and it’s beyond us to override your body in such an extreme case. Perhaps if you’d come directly here, we could have done something, but you’re many months too late. I’m sorry.”
Something about Uttara’s brisk, business-like tone makes me feel better about the bad news, paradoxically. I nod at him. “If that’s the bad news, then I’m fortunate. Everything looks up from here, yes?”
Mender Uttara nods after a moment’s hesitation, although with less confidence than I’d like to see. “More or less. I won’t mislead you, Nuri: this is beyond my skill. You look like you’ve tried to drink an entire ocean of mana in one go. It scalded you from the inside out. I can’t even begin to imagine what happened there. Your core space is the largest I’ve ever seen—not even my patients beyond the Second Threshold compare. Yet it’s falling apart.”
“I wrestled a Rift into submission,” I say in a light voice, falling back on my favorite trick of lying with the truth. Chances are good that they won’t believe me.
“Ha! An intact sense of humor, I’m pleased to report,” Mender Uttara says. He chuckles, winks at me like he’s a great wit, and eases himself into one of the sea green chairs. “You’re in luck, however. One of my colleagues is back in town at the moment. She tends to wander the continent at unexpected moments, but she’s the foremost expert on metaphysical healing.”
“You’re sure that she’ll see me? I can pay,” I hasten to assure Uttara, which makes his apprentice crack a slight smile.
“No promises. She’s a bit eccentric. But I suspect that your case will catch her fancy. If so, she’ll probably take you for free, just for the challenge.”
“Stuck at her Second Threshold bottleneck?” I guess. As soon as I say the words, I start to kick myself mentally. It’s impolite to pry, for one, and it’s an odd tidbit for a regular crafter to know. I shouldn’t draw that kind of attention to myself if it can be helped. Of course, the very fact that I’ve managed to destroy my core and channels in such spectacular fashion will surely make me stand out in people’s minds.
Mender Uttara gives me a sharp look. “Chances are good you’d do her a service, yes. I’d keep that to myself if I were you.”
“Noted,” I say meekly.
“Now, my apprentice says that he can get you a meeting with the prosthetics department tomorrow. Are you interested? It’s perfectly fine if you need time to think it over.”
“I might make my own,” I say after some deliberation. “Meeting with a professional team is a chance I can’t pass up, however. When should I be here?”
“Apprentice? When should Nuri be here?”
“Noon bell. Two hours until the first appointment, but you don’t want to risk missing it. It’s a long wait after check in, but you’ll probably be first after lunch.”
I shake hands with Mender Uttara and his apprentice and thank them for their time. I’m ready to return to the inn when I notice Lionel’s hesitation. I nudge him with my elbow. “Go on, see if Uttara will set you up with classes. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
Lionel squares up his shoulders and approaches the Mender to talk. I wave and whisper, “good luck.” Leaving him to pursue his own path, I follow the apprentice’s lead through five or six hallways, making more turns than I remember on the way in.
The crowd of patients is even thicker than it was during the morning. I can’t find a seat to wait for Lionel, so I wedge myself up against a pillar near the doorway, and lean my shoulder on the fluted column for support. I relax, prepared for a long wait, when once again I recognize a familiar, hateful mana signature.
I stand up in shock, scanning the crowd to try to find my quarry. Sure enough, I see her severe face not far away. People part before her passing. What I didn’t expect, however, is her uniform. I gape, staring at the crest on her robes in confusion. I blink twice, wondering if I’m imagining things. Yet there can be no doubt.
[Lady] Saphora is a Mender.