Silver read all afternoon, pausing occasionally to help visitors checking in or asking questions. The book was dense with information, and he was pleased to find that it was geared toward beginners.
He learned that being a Stormsoother, while it could be taken literally, was about more than just the weather. He already knew that his powers could heal, but he learned that they could also influence the emotions of those around him. They could dampen fires and stem floods. They could encourage plants to flourish or to die. And so much more.
Silver flipped back to the section on healing and regarded his bandaged hand. He picked at the corner of the bandage with one fingernail, pulling up a small tab, then gently and slowly peeled it up from that corner.
Laying his hand palm up on the dusty pages, he carefully read over the instructions and then studied the small red puncture wound.
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Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, holding the image of the gash in his mind.
Eyes still squeezed shut, Silver slowly brought his other hand over the injury, brushing his fingers through the air just an inch above the palm.
As he did so, he imagined a green mist flowing from the fingers and hovering over the wound. He pictured the mist gathering, hiding his entire hand, and then waved his fingers again, clearing the fog to reveal unbroken skin.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and stared at his smooth, unblemished hand.
There was no sign of the injury.
Silver's lips tightened in a satisfied smile. He had just successfully done magic.
"Well, well, well," said a familiar voice behind him.
He stiffened and slowly turned to face the life-sized portrait of Aillen that hung on the wall behind the desk.
Usually the painting showed the owner standing in the lobby, his arm casually slung over the desk, a welcoming smile spread across his human mask.
Now it displayed a dark-haired, violet-fleshed Fae with pointed ears, his arms crossed over his barrel-like chest as he stared straight at Silver.