Maria Snyder - Touch of Power

Why wasn’t he yelling at me? The anticipation was worse than his fury.

But he sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me. He didn’t have a shirt on or an ounce of fat—just lean, hard muscles. At least he wore pants.

Without saying a word, he left my room. I stared at the closed door in shock. I expected a lecture. I expected punishment for my actions.

Not one to let an opportunity pass me by, I slid out of bed and searched for my clothes or any piece of clothing. At this point I’d wear whatever I could find. Nothing. I wrapped the sheet around me and tested the window. The shutters had been latched, but they opened without trouble. My room was on the second floor, facing a forest. Perfect, I could climb down the drainpipe. In a sheet? I laughed. It could be worse.

Someone knocked on my door. I closed the shutters and dove into bed just as a woman with pure white hair bustled into my room.

“Glory be. Mr. Kerrick was right. So happy to see you awake. Oh, you had us all so worried, you did.” She carried a bundle in her arms. Dropping it on the bed she hustled over to the windows and flung open the shutters. “Get dressed and I’ll fetch you some vittles. You must be starved. A skinny little thing like you, going days without food.” She tsked, heading for the door.

“Days?” I squeaked. “How many?”

“Four or five. The boys brought you in.”

“Where am I?”

“In Mengels, dearie.” With a wave she disappeared as fast as she had arrived.

From the amount of time we’d spent traveling, I’d thought we’d gone farther than Mengels. Oh, well. Not my problem. I fingered the clothing the woman had left. A long dark green skirt with a thin pattern of tiny light yellow flowers, growing as if on a vine. A light yellow tunic, some undergarments and black wool leggings. With no other options, I dressed, hoping my own clothes would show up soon.

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I stared at the strange woman on the other side of the glass. My hair had grown to my shoulders. The dark auburn roots a stark comparison to my dyed-blond strands. It stuck up on one side and was matted flat on the other. I combed my fingers through and realized my hair was clean. Who had washed it?

Curious, I lifted my tunic and pulled the bandage down, inspecting my stomach. Ugly reddish-purple circular scars peppered the skin along with burn marks from the acid. I remembered when Tara had shown me her scars, noting each one was a source of pride and not censure. Since I had been an apprentice, I only had one scar from when I healed Noelle. Now, I had the ones from Belen.

The woman returned with a tray. I hurried to cover myself. She exclaimed over my clothes. “Yours were ruined. That nasty boar tore it to shreds. The boys did a nice job picking out the right size for you. Your boots are below.” She set the tray down and pulled a chair over. “I’ll bring them up, but a nice girl like you should wear something more … feminine. I can send Melina out?”

“No. Thank you, Ms… .”

“Call me Mom. Everyone does. When you stay at the Lamp Post Inn, I take care of you, just like your own mother.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m so glad you lived. Frankly, when Mr. Kerrick brought you in, I was about to call the undertaker. It’s a miracle you survived.” Mom shooed me into the chair.

At least she didn’t suspect I was a healer. My stomach grumbled as I smelled the food. The tray held a bowl of steaming soup and a hunk of bread and cheese.

“Don’t wolf it down or it’ll come up just as quick.” Mom hovered until I started eating. “I’ll be back in a bit. We’ll do something about your hair.”

I tucked a lock behind my ear. “What’s wrong …?” But she had left. Other questions came to mind, but I enjoyed the meal and the solitude. I’d been on my own for three years, and grown used to quiet. Now I’d been with Kerrick’s men for the past twenty-five days at least. Probably more.

Mom returned with my boots, two bottles, towels, scissors and a helper carrying a washbasin and large pitcher. Mom called the young girl Melina and she looked to be around Flea’s age. She filled the basin with water, and waited for orders.

I stood. “You don’t need—”

“Mr. Kerrick wants your hair one color so you don’t stand out so much.”

Mr. Kerrick could kiss my ass. I tried to be stubborn, but Mom didn’t bat an eye. She handled me as easily as a pouting two-year-old. Before I could even protest, she had me just where she wanted with my head in the basin.

“Auburn or blond?” she asked me.

“No orders from Mr. Kerrick?”

She ignored my sarcasm. “He said he preferred your natural color, but you could decide.”

Gee, what a swell guy.

“The reddish brown sets off your beautiful sea-green eyes better,” Mom said. “But if you choose blond, I’ll give you the dye so you can do your roots.”

I imagined trying to touch up my hair while camping in the Nine Mountains and almost laughed aloud. “My natural color is fine.”

It was sort of nice to be fussed over. After Mom dyed my hair to match my roots, Melina trimmed the ends with the scissors. My hack job had grown in uneven.

When they were finished, Mom stepped back. “Much, much better, my dear. You look lovely. The boys won’t recognize you.”

Good. Maybe I could escape for real this time.

“I’ll fetch them,” Mom said, dashing any hope. “They’ve been pestering to visit, but I wouldn’t let them until you were decent.”

Her comment reminded me of one of my questions. “Was it you, er … did you …?”

“Not to worry. Me and Melina took off those bloody clothes and did what we could for you. There were a few scary nights where I swore we would lose you, but Mr. Kerrick stayed by your side all night.”

That explained the annoying tug. Kerrick couldn’t even let me rest in peace. But as much as I would like to blame him for keeping me from the afterlife, earth magicians didn’t have any healing magic.

“Thank you, Mom, and thank you, too, Melina.”

Melina blushed prettily. After they left, I shoved my feet into my boots and strode to the window. My cloak and knapsack were still missing, but I could—

The door banged open and Loren, Flea and Quain charged me. I backed away until I realized they wore smiles and appeared to be happy to see me.

“Told you she’d live,” Loren said. “You owe me fifteen silvers.”

“You said ‘in no time.’ I believe it took her five days to recover. That’s not ‘in no time,’” Quain protested.

Flea beamed at me. “Wow, you look like … a girl!”

Belen plowed through them all, knocking them aside. He wrapped me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground.

“Easy, Belen. My ribs …”

He set me gently down. “Avry, why did you risk your life for me? Kerrick ordered you not to heal me. You suffered for days! You shouldn’t have done it.”

The room grew quiet. I spotted Kerrick near the doorway.

“Belen, I decide who I heal. Me. Not Kerrick. Not you. Not anyone. It’s my decision. The only one I have left.” I put my hand on his cheek. “You deserved to be saved. I had no doubts.”

He covered my hand with his own, pressing it against his face. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” And I meant it.

Mom entered. “You’ve visited. Now shoo! We don’t want her to have a relapse.”

Everyone filed out except Kerrick. Mom crossed her arms, waiting. Kerrick didn’t move. She sighed with such exasperation, I couldn’t keep from smiling. But after warning Kerrick not to tire me, Mom left, taking my good humor with her. Kerrick closed the door behind her and faced me.