Keepers of the Flame

10

By midmorning, Elizabeth’s mind was spinning…no, that was a trite and wrong image. Her mind was so saturated with new ideas and experiences it was like a sodden sponge. Her brain might have sunk to the bottom of her skull unable to hold one more new thing.

She’d been shown the healing rooms, and had watched when the medicas followed up on the injuries from the battle the night before. The claw-slices and puncture wounds on heavily scarred bodies had horrified her, empirical evidence that these people fought somethings that tried their best to kill them. She was told again that the Marshalls formed a healing circle after the battle and handled most of the injuries. She garnered that though the “incursion” had been large, only two people had died. Alexa and Bastien had saved the day.

Her whole body tensed at the images forming in her mind, but she asked no questions. Then a Chevalier woman limped in with strained muscles and a broken arm from a too tough practice and Elizabeth helped heal her. That was—strange. Nothing like linking with Bri, but Elizabeth couldn’t pinpoint why.

The female knight and her partner in the skirmish had been charged a large sum for the healing for being careless in a time of war, when the medicas needed to be fresh for any battle aftermath the Marshalls couldn’t handle. Individuals and pairs were patrolling and fighting in the north and might appear at any moment.

Then they’d all trooped to the inside training hall in the lower courtyard of the Castle to reiterate the policy to the rest of the fighters.

Alexa Fitzwalter rescued her, shooing off the medicas surrounding Elizabeth with flapping motions as if they were a flock of birds. “Give the woman a break!”

Elizabeth shook her head. Had Alexa actually said that? She reran the words in her mind. No. Something equally colloquial, but not those exact words.

Jerking her head toward the security gate between the lower courtyard and Temple ward, Alexa said, “Let’s get rid of the extra bed and wardrobe in your room. You don’t object to living in my tower, do you?” She started off across the grassy middle of the yard.

Elizabeth kept pace. “Would my objection be listened to?”

Alexa smiled. “Sure. You get to choose where to stay.”

“I’d rather go.”

Face losing expression, Alexa said, “Got that.”

“This is not our fight. Our parents—”

“I’m sorry,” Alexa said brusquely in English. “We understand, and we cut Marian some slack, but since then the war against the Dark has heated up. It wants something here in Lladrana and won’t hesitate to make this country a wasteland to get it.”

“Could you give—” Elizabeth started, but Alexa was shaking her head.

“I think anything a big evil entity wanted badly enough to create monsters and kill whatever got in its way is not something we should give that entity. Like Hitler and the atomic bomb. What we have here in Lladrana starts with genocide, since it’s only Lladrana being invaded now. But I reckon it will move to the eradication of the human species.” Her smile was grim. “I’d rather not be an individual in an endangered species. Not to mention that we can all hear the planet, Amee, weep. This planet is much weaker than Earth, in energy—Song.”

Elizabeth remained silent and nodded to the guards who held open the heavy gate door. She stepped over the threshold curb. “I’ve never been a proponent in the sacrifice of the individual for the greater good. Especially when the individuals don’t want to be sacrificed. I would have thought as an attorney that you would have agreed. You don’t seem to be the type to defend major corporations, but individuals.”

“I took any case I could get,” Alexa said, heading toward the keep. Sadness passed over her face. “I had a partner, as close as a sister, who died just before I came.” She sighed. “I was grieving. We’d just set up business and were scrambling for work.” They entered the keep and strode down corridors.

“That reminds me,” Elizabeth said. “Our godfather is a judge in Denver.”

Alexa’s expression changed to wariness as she stopped outside the door to the twins’ suite. “Let me guess, the honorable Trenton Philbert the Third.” She fingered her baton sheath.

“You know him.”

“Yeah. Open the door.”

Elizabeth set her hand on the knob, heard and felt a little “pop.” They went down the narrow security passage to the dining room entrance. She pushed open the door. Things looked slightly disarrayed. Of course, someone had come to get Bri’s gear.

Alexa went to the table and put her hand on the stack of three books. “All of us know the judge.”

“What!”

Alexa’s smile was ironic. “Denver isn’t as large as some of the eastern cities, but it ain’t a small cow-town anymore.”

Elizabeth blinked. “Calli was a rancher.”

“Ayes, and ‘Bert’ had a spread right next to hers.” Alexa’s forehead creased. “The Philberts had lived next to Calli’s family for a couple of generations.”

“Coincidence?” Elizabeth said, then shook her head just as the smaller woman was doing.

“I don’t think so,” Alexa said. Again she shrugged. “We’ll see if the last Exotique knows him, too. A singer,” she murmured. “Probably gotta be a singer. He big into the arts?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Alexa repeated.

“Though his new wife is…unusual. Very involved in New Age studies.”

Alexa stared at her thoughtfully, “The owner of the metaphysical store in Denver, Queen of Cups.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

Tapping the books with her finger, Alexa said, “Marian met her.” Alexa’s mouth opened, then her lips pressed together as if guarding secrets. “Read them. There may be other connections among us. We need to know.”

“I will.” Elizabeth scooped up her healthy back bag, slung it over her shoulder. She didn’t want to think about connections. She went into the bedroom and stopped in her tracks as she saw a long-haired white Persian cat batting one of the foil paper chocolate wrappers around and pouncing on it.

“How did he get in here?” Elizabeth said.

The cat sat down and draped her tail around her paws. I AM a she.

Elizabeth plunked onto the bed. A talking cat. She was going mad. Flying horses, talking cats. She rubbed her eyes.

“This is my companion. She is a magical shape-shifting being, come to help us defeat the Dark.”

“Of course she is,” Elizabeth said tiredly, but jolted at the sight of the miniature greyhound cradled in Alexa’s arms. Futilely she scanned the room for the cat.

I am a dog now.

“So I see.” Her shoulders slumped.

The greyhound held out a dainty paw.

Sighing, Elizabeth went over to take it, and Power zinged through her body, removing weariness. She stepped back and released the small pads and claws. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Of course you should be,” Alexa said. “You’re in a different dimension. I can speak from experience that information and surprises come flying at you—sometimes literally—the first few days.” Her lopsided smile charmed. She continued, “I’m down to a surprise every couple of weeks. Marian’s still getting surprised every other day or so, but she’s a scholar and a Circlet and investigates stuff.” She bent down and picked up the wrapper and her scowl was back, along with an accusatory stare. “Chocolate. You have more than the chocolate cake. You have candy.” She held the scrap up to her nose and sniffed, whimpered. “You had chocolate last night.”

Elizabeth had. After she’d put Bri to bed, she’d eaten one, or rather had let it melt in her mouth and slide down her throat, savoring every instant. She clamped her bag close to her side. “Yes, I had one. After we healed—” she still wasn’t comfortable with the word “—fifteen people.”

Alexa blew out a breath. “Guess I can’t blame you.” She widened her eyes and tried to look pitiful. It didn’t work. She was one of the strongest, most competent people Elizabeth had ever met, including her mother and the staff at Denver Major.

When Elizabeth didn’t respond to the ploy, Alexa once again donned the manner of extreme efficiency. Looking down at the dog in her arms, she said, “Is there anything else in the extra wardrobe Elizabeth needs?”

Faucon’s shirts, the dog said slyly. Elizabeth heard her. She ignored the comment and stared at the greyhound. It had an aura. She was getting used to seeing light flare around people, green most especially for the medicas. This aura was different, radiating a glittering rainbow with golden patches that glowed every few seconds.

The greyhound launched herself from Alexa to Elizabeth and Elizabeth caught her. She was light, as if she was more spirit than flesh. Her fur was soft. The dog looked at her with deep brown eyes that drew her in, made her dizzy, had her sinking into her balance.

You and your twin are needed here. It will take both of you to find the answers.

Elizabeth blinked, but still heard the voice in her mind, thought she saw the dog’s muzzle opening and closing as if she uttered words. Stay. I am Sinafinal, a fey-coo-cu. Call on me if you have need, but guard my name from others. Only the Exotiques and their mates know our names.

“Our?” Elizabeth managed.

There was a short bark and another greyhound sat on the bed, tongue lolling and wagging its tail.

My mate, said Sinafinal.

It was male. Slightly larger, it was a dappled brown instead of grey like Sinafinal. It held out a paw.

Cautious, but fascinated, Elizabeth took the paw. Another surge of energy through her, but something about this one felt almost familiar.

I am Tuckerinal. I was once a hamster. I came with Marian from Earth and am her companion.

“Um, salutations.” Again she eased back from the magical being. Fey-coo-cu, magical shape-shifting being. Former hamster. Right.

Hello to you. Too messy here. Bed and wardrobe must go.

“I’ll take care of it,” Alexa said, waved toward the bathroom and dining room beyond.

The dog sniffed at Elizabeth’s bag. Do you have nuts?

“No.”

Yes, you do! Nuts, nuts, nuts! He pawed at the bag, managed to tip her cell phone out.

“No!” Alexa lunged for the bed, but it was tall and wide. She hopped on, but not before Tuckerinal’s quick paws snicked the case of Elizabeth’s cell open and his tongue came out to scoop up the battery and memory chips.

“No!” Elizabeth dropped Sinafinal, but it was too late. She was dazed by what she’d just witnessed, a dog eating electronics.

Tuckerinal burped and grinned at her. More nuts?

“No, Bri has the most toys.” She snapped her mouth shut.

Br-iii. It was an anticipatory lilt in her mind from him. He swiped a long pink tongue over his muzzle. Toys. Nuts.

“Uh-oh,” Alexa said.

“No!” Elizabeth scrabbled at the remnants of the phone, knowing it was useless, but trying to put it together all the same. Tears spurted from her eyes and anger and humiliation washed through her.

She is doing that turning red thing, Sinafinal said.

“Out! All of you! How could you? That was my camera phone. It had pictures.” She whirled to Alexa. “Photos of our father’s birthday party. Of our parents! Get out. Now. I don’t want to see any of you.”

Tuckerinal sat up. He wasn’t happy and grinning now. I can show them. All. I can repeat voice mail. He opened his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Cassidy’s deep tones rolled out. “Can’t tell you how much I want you, how I’m lookin’ forward to after shift. Later.”

Elizabeth moaned and curled onto the bed.

Alexa was there. “I’m sorry. So sorry. You didn’t say you’d left a…a lover, too.”

“The…the…bas…tard…broke…off…our…engagement…two weeks ago,” Elizabeth said between shuddering sobs.

“Oh, gawd,” Alexa said in English. The bed dipped as she crawled closer. She sat by Elizabeth and stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“I love him. Loved him.” She cried more, couldn’t seem to stop. Hadn’t she cried enough over the man? “He…saw. Me trying to…use my…my…gift.” It was all so horrible. She could remember her despair that a young girl was dying, her desperate hope that she could call down a miracle. Her failure.

“He…was…appalled…A…doctor, rational person…” He hadn’t loved her enough.

Two small forms settled on either side of her. One purred near her abdomen. She reached out and tangled her fingers in long, soft fur. Sinafinal, as the cat. A long nose nuzzled the back of her knee.

I made Elizabeth cry. I am very sorry. I will make it up somehow. A doggy sigh. I could not resist the nuts. A little one comes. We both need energy and Power and Song for it.

That made no sense to Elizabeth.

Alexa said. “You will take care of all the photos for Elizabeth. Not one must be lost. We’ll see what we can do about having them, um, hard-copied.”

The absurdity of that—hard-copied from a dog’s stomach?—just made Elizabeth cry harder.

The sick child was a girl of about seven or eight, sturdy. Probably too heavy for the mother to carry, but she held her child with desperate strength.

With a careful sweep of his arm, Sevair shoved the stacks of papers aside, then took the child, carried her to the conference table.

“Sevair, this is not the place…” said one hefty man shrinking back to the side of the room. Sevair and the woman—now twisting her hands in her apron—were between the citymaster and the door, otherwise Bri thought he might have bolted.

“This is exactly the place. Exactly our priority. Exactly our duty.” Sevair bit the words off. He gently laid the girl on the table, grabbed his overtunic, stuffed it under her head.

“Medica?” His look was a demand.

Bri found herself rubbing her hands. She stopped, shifted her shoulders, drew in a deep breath and went to the child. The girl was unconscious, so no talking to her about where it hurt. Opening her mouth, Bri caught sweet, labored breathing. No coating of white on her tongue. She checked under her eyes. Nothing there, either.

No use. She’d just have to trust in the healingstream, in the magic and Power of this dimension. That everyone was right and her hands would be enough. Sure weren’t any antibiotics around. She stroked the child from head to toe, heat radiated from her throat and her abdomen.

Keeping in mind what the medica had said, Bri strained to hear the chakra centers, the chimes. Cacophony clashed in her mind, in her ears, rocking her back and making her shake her head to get rid of the sound, like cars crashing. Terrible sound.

One more lung-filling breath. Ease it out and reach. Again Power slammed into her. Her body jerked. Strong hands grasped her shoulders, excess energy went through that link.

Heal her, said Sevair.

She looked for the chakras, couldn’t make out the jumble of colors. So Bri shut her eyes and prayed. Found the Song again. The Song of the child. The Song of herself. The throbbing Song of the Power flowing through her.

But it needed to be controlled, focused, sent to the right organs in the correct order, so the most important systems were strengthened first to support the healing of the rest. Power flowed through her. Had she reached for it? She didn’t know, but knew there was plenty here.

The Songs drowned out all thought. She touched young flesh. She healed. Without thought and without plan and without reason.

Later she found herself shivering, lifted and folded into a chair, Sevair’s tunic now draping her. Her vision cleared, and she saw a bunch of people near the table, the citymasters, the woman holding and rocking her girl, tears and snot streaming down her face, a big man in rough clothes.

If Bri could have spared the breath for a sigh of relief, she would have. She’d done it. She was so much stronger here to be able to heal a strange, debilitating sickness in one session.

There was no sign of the hefty citymaster.

Songs washed through Bri, pulsed around her. Still fearful strident notes from the father and mother, the girls’ sweet tune, the intricate pattern of the citymasters.

Sevair was tapping a map with his index finger, looking at the man. “You live here?”

“Ayes.” The man nodded.

With a brusque nod of his own, Sevair placed another red dot on the map.

“Outlying farm area, again,” a woman said.

“Yes,” Sevair said.

“I don’t see any kind of pattern we can work with.” An older man crossed his arms. “Hard to stop such a sickness if we don’t know where it will strike next.”

“Let alone why,” said the woman.

“Who all have you been with today?” asked a different woman of the farm wife.

The farm woman dragged a rag from her pocket, wiped her face and nose. “Ella collapsed in Noix Market Square.”

“Wonderful.” Deep sarcasm came from the older man.

“We must send people to the farm and the square,” Sevair said. “I’ll have an assistant accompany these folk home.”

Bri stirred, tried to stand, couldn’t, she felt like an aged grandmother. After licking her lips, she forced words from a dry throat. “Bring the girl to me.” With her quavery voice she even sounded like an old grandmother. At least the typical stereotype. Her own were professional women. And her brain was nattering.

The man in farmer’s clothes lifted his daughter and carried her to Bri, setting her across Bri’s lap, supporting her.

The girl looked fine. Good color. Bri tested her forehead, temperature seemed all right, checked her tongue and eyes again, all good.

She slipped her hand through the gaping shirt. Again warm skin, her patient’s heart thumped with a regular beat, her lungs filled and emptied. After a couple of sips of breath, Bri opened herself to the sound of the chakras. They hummed with what she was beginning to understand was healthful normality.

Incredible.

“She’s good,” she said to the man watching intently.

He smiled and she saw even, white teeth, then he took his daughter. “Yes, medica, she is good. A good girl, good daughter. We would have been sad without her.” His commonplace words were backed by Song, and Bri first heard the tones of a loving family: father, mother, two sons, two daughters. All experiencing euphoria at the saving of Ella. All sending Bri their utmost gratitude.

Too much to handle seriously. She cleared her throat, “Tell me, sir, do you raise vegetables?”

His brows winged up at being called sir, then he smiled again, his chest puffed out. “The best chouys in Lladranan.”

“Chouys, huh?” Bri caught Sevair’s eye. “We will keep him in mind, right?”

“As you wish, Exotique.” Sevair did the torso incline.

“My thanks and my woman’s thanks,” the farmer said formally to Bri, then to the guildspeople.

The farm woman came over to Bri, studied her. “Merci.” Reached out her hand. Bri took it and their fingers locked. “Merci.” The woman squeezed her hand, let go and followed her husband to the door, she drew herself up and said, “It is good that you Summoned an Exotique Medica for us all.” They left.

While Bri was still contemplating these words, Sevair scooped her from the chair.

“I can walk!”

“Can you?’

“Yes.”

He set her on her feet, but kept an arm loosely around her waist, steadying her. Her legs were a little wobbly, but the feel of the stone under her feet seemed to help. She straightened, took a step, paused, took another step. Everyone watched her. The women smiled. The old man scowled. “If this is the Power cost of Healing one child, we have big problems.”

“Yes,” Sevair said briefly.

“They healed sixteen last night,” someone said.

“We were together,” Bri said. “My twin sister and I. And we were in the Castle with a lot of Power.”

“And with the Marshalls, who themselves are greatly Powerful,” Sevair said.

“This room is good,” Bri said.

The woman nodded. “We will scout out other places of Power that will be good for healing if an epidemic comes.”

“When the epidemic comes,” Sevair said.

Bri shuffled faster and made it to the door before the argument truly began. She stepped away from Sevair’s arm, tilted and had to brace a hand against the wall.

Sevair finished snicking the lock to the door behind them, and held out his arm with old-time courtesy. Bri took it, managed a weak smile, and they walked very slowly down the corridor. Every other man she knew would have been impatient with her, would have picked her up and carried her to wherever they were going, not simply walked step-by-step in silence. Sevair Masif was a real stand-up guy.

When they reached the door, he held it open to show a carriage pulled by a team of horses just beyond the pillared portico. “The Citymasters’ equipage to take you to your new home,” he said.

Before they even crossed the threshold, there was the sound of hoofbeats, rustling and a protesting neigh from Mud. Me! It was loud, demanding, and inescapable.

11

The volaran pranced.

“It’s only a few blocks to her new home,” Sevair said.

Mud rolled big eyes at him.

Sevair sighed. “Very well. The tailor will be coming shortly and we are, as usual, running late.” He lifted Bri and mounted behind her. Sevair projected a pretty square full of mature trees and flower beds, surrounded by three-story town houses set closely together. He indicated one with pillars in the front and a long back garden.

Mud lifted off, as light as a feather caught by a spring breeze. She soared over the square and people cheered again, sent blessings Bri could actually feel along with a rise of Song. Fabulous.

She leaned against Sevair, solid behind her, and observed as they skimmed over roofs.

The square with the house wasn’t more than two streets over, and the neighborhood was smaller than she realized, cozier. A lot of people seemed to be in the park, “casually” watching. No doubt everyone knew she’d be living here.