Laurell Hamilton - Nightseer

Having come so near death, Keleios would have spoken to Bertog about the spells and the phantasm, but she distrusted the healer. The healer’s vows prevented her from harming anyone, but she could still bear secrets. For a white healer the girl spent entirely too much time associating with the followers of Mother Bane. The door swung inward.

Jodda, in the shapeless white robe of a full healer, came, and a breath of healing came with her. Her black hair was a rich length against the snowy cloth. Her blue eyes were concerned, her face professionally blank but pleasant. Behind her was Belor the Dreammaker.

His blue eyes were clouded with sleep or magic. He was short, broad-shouldered, yellow-haired. A firm, square jaw saved his face from being soft and boyish. He wore a pair of baggy trousers stuffed into over-the-knee boots. A blue tunic gaped open and beltless over his bare chest. The tunic and trousers did not match. Belor’s illusions were the envy of the rest. Even the school’s High-master illusionist was learning from them.

Only Belor and Keleios suspected the source of his gift: demonmark, demon magic that flowed through their veins. As her hand behind its leather prison, so with his inborn magic—contaminated.

His eyes searched hers now, and a glance was enough between them. She was all right.

His fear lessened.

Melandra came last, quietly, head hung low so her hair would hide her face. She had a girl’s crush on Belor, but she thought herself hideous and so was awkward in the role.

Jodda traced a red line from Keleios’ left shoulder near the neck, to disappear into the cloth of the tunic she wore. “You got this in a dream?”

Keleios managed a yes.

The healer’s face cleared, becoming clean of all emotion. Jodda spread her hands, palms down, at the beginning and the end of the wound. Warmth spread from her hands to Keleios, then Jodda began to jerk and thrash, never loosing contact with the body of her patient. A breath-stealing scream reverberated through the tower room, and a crimson slash spread slowly across the white robe. The throbbing pain left Keleios. Jodda drew back to sit cross-legged in deep meditation. Only for severe wounds did a white healer need trance afterwards. Keleios wondered how bad the internal damage had been, or if it were more a wound of the soul.

“Someday, I will do that,” Bertog said quietly.

Keleios looked at the girl in her fashionable silk dress. The sleeves were tapered and flowing nearly to the floor. Jewels decorated the belt that wrapped her waist. The yellow hair was coiled and wrapped by gold thread. Many of the journeyman healers copied their masters and wore shapeless robes of pale blue. When they became full healers, blue would be exchanged for white. Bertog would not look nearly as fetching in the baggy healer’s robes. Keleios smiled; it was a cheering thought.

Belor knelt on the other side of Keleios. “What went wrong?’‘

She spoke softly for his ears alone. “A phantasm and a spell of binding.”

His whisper was a hiss of shock. “Phantasm—but how? And a spell in the tower, how?” She struggled up on her elbows; Belor moved to help.

“I’m all right.” She could see Alys now, curled against the far wall. “Someone here opened the tower. The symbol of law is no longer protecting this tower. It must be replaced before other monsters come in.”

Jodda shooed Belor away and began exploring her patient with firm professional hands. Keleios called Melandra to her. “Melandra, I need a favor.”

“Of course.” She knelt close, keeping her thick hair like a veil on the side near Belor.

Jodda told her, “Please stop talking so I can examine you.”

“Jodda, the tower has to be closed to the night seekers. I think all the sorcerers below journeyman should be checked. Let me send Melandra to waken the dorm mother and father and alert one of the master sorcerers so they can close the tower. I will be quiet after that.”

“The tower being opened I understand, but what is wrong with the sorcerers?” Jodda asked.

“When I was trying to free Alys, after I was hurt, I reached outward for power. I fear that I used the power of at least one other sorcerer without their consent.”

Bertog said, “That is evil sorcery.”

“It was not done on purpose, but out of lack of control.”

Jodda said, “Very well. Bertog, go with the apprentice in case there is need of healing.”

“No,” Keleios said. “I hurt her accidentally when she entered my mind to heal.”

“Come here, Bertog.” The girl stepped forward hesitantly. Jodda touched her body and closed her eyes for a moment. “You certainly did. Go to your room and rest; heal thyself. Melandra, get Feldspar the healer. Do you know him on sight?” The girl nodded. “Good. Now go.”

The girl bowed to Master Jodda and ran out. Selene entered breathlessly. “Healer, we need you downstairs.”

“What is it this time?”

“Master Fidelis—she was found unconscious. Apparently, something went wrong in the middle of a spell.”

Jodda rose. “I am not through with you, Keleios, so rest.” She turned warning eyes to Belor. “I am charging you with seeing that she rests and does herself no more injury tonight.”

He half-bowed. “As you say, healer.”

“I can’t rest yet, Jodda. My prophecy cannot wait until tomorrow.”

Jodda’s eyes were angry, almost black. “Why do I heal you? You abuse yourself constantly. Go prophesy, but I will not heal you if you collapse tonight. It will do you good to be bedridden for a day or two.”

She turned with a swish of skirts and scooped up Alys. “The child’s injury is one of the mind and will take longer. She will likely sleep tomorrow away, or rather today.”

Keleios said quietly, “I had to enter her mind to free her from the dream. Did I harm her? When I fought to free us, I was still inside her mind, calling on sorcery.”

“She is injured, Keleios, but she will heal. You did no permanent damage. You saved her life. If she had died while in dream, the tower would have taken her soul. There would have been no chance of resurrection.”

“You will come get me when she wakens.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I will come get you. Alys will probably need to see you, alive and whole. Try to stay that way until she wakens.”

Keleios smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

Jodda departed, her skirts whispering on the stones. The light from the single lamp flickered in a breeze that began inside the room. Keleios spoke quietly so her voice would not echo in the room. “How did you come to be here?”

“The sound of running woke me. Selene told me only that you had been hurt and were in the tower,” Belor said.

“So you came to rescue me.”

“To guard your back. You’d do the same for me.”

“True.” She stood, feeling a lingering stiffness that would pass. The shadows seemed to thicken. The lamp’s flame streamed in the growing wind.

Belor searched the room uneasily. “What is that?”

“Wind. Let us leave the tower to itself.” Keleios picked up her pouch from its spot near the wall. She slipped the throwing daggers into their sheaths. The golden bracers slipped on her forearms; the strength spell glimmered through them. She felt better already.

The ring of protection was last. She tied the leather pouch to her belt.

She walked through the door and he followed.

“What about the lamp?” As he asked, the flame vanished, giving the room to the dark. He stood a moment with the wind ruffling his hair until Keleios laid a hand on his arm and drew him out.

The fire in the outer room had faded to a sullen blue glow.

He asked again, “What is that?”

She walked towards the stairs. “The tower wishes to be left alone, Belor. Let us give it what it wants.”