Erasmus shook his head and whistled. “You are both lucky to be alive. Few defy a Kishion and survive. They are absolutely loyal to the Arch-Rike. They do his bidding and no other’s. This one was sent to kill your uncle. He rarely speaks. The Quiet Kishion. They say he is cursed in a way that no magic will harm him.”
Annon took her arm and examined her wrist. She flinched when he touched it, but he stared at the wound. Now that he no longer wore the blade Iddawc, he put his talisman back on. The forest was alive with chattering from the spirits who had witnessed the scene of violence. Many were sympathetic.
Is there a sylph near? he asked, projecting his thoughts. We are injured.
Hettie’s scowl furrowed deeper. “Why did he take Paedrin?”
Erasmus sighed. “The Bhikhu are also loyal to the Rikes. I would deduce they will get what information they can from him and then send him back to the temple. I do not know how he travels or by what means, but we can judge the following. Either he could only take one person with him…presumably he meant to take your uncle’s corpse. Or he did not consider us a sufficient threat to bother with.”
“Not yet anyway,” Hettie said through ground teeth. “It hurts, Annon.”
“Be still,” he said, hearing a reply to his thoughts. A timid spirit approached, though he could not see it. Annon closed his eyes and focused his thoughts, feeding them with intense gratitude. The sylph responded to his emotion, hovering in the air between him and Hettie.
“Close your eyes,” Annon whispered.
He could feel the warmth of the magic seep through him and into her skin, threading through the muscles and tendons and bone. Hettie started to flinch, but Annon held her still. There was a gentle pulse of heat and then the creature was gone.
Annon opened his eyes. The bruises on her neck and arms were gone as well. She looked at him in awe and stretched out her arm, twisting her wrist as if it were completely healed.
“How did you do that?” she whispered. “Was it a prayer?”
“In a way,” he answered, smiling. “It is a bit complicated, but the magic is part of the Druidecht lore. I invited a spirit to heal you. It agreed. I could not force it to do so. But it had compassion on you and our situation and decided to help us.” He turned and gazed at Erasmus. “One of the things I learned before we fell asleep in the tree. I have not had time to mention it. Drosta spoke to me. He is a Druidecht now. He isn’t a Paracelsus any longer. He said the entire city of Kenatos is enslaving spirits.”
“I don’t understand,” Hettie said. “I fell asleep so quickly. I was so afraid and then suddenly I could not keep my eyes open. I heard him speaking, but I could not understand him.”
“He told us that the Arch-Rike and his kind are trapping spirits in Kenatos. They are binding them into service. Into slavery. You remember the lights in the city? When the darkness comes, all of the city starts to glow? Those are trapped spirits. The Arch-Rike has been trapping them and using them. The blade we found in Drosta’s lair. It contains an ancient spirit called the Iddawc. Knowing its name can give you power over it, but it seeks to subvert strong men into killing. It was forged to kill those like Uncle Tyrus.”
“Then why did he send us to find it?” Hettie asked, frustration on her face.
“He means to use it in the Scourgelands. Obviously it is a powerful magic. Perhaps powerful enough to survive the dangers there.”
“Then why not get it himself?” Hettie asked.
Erasmus clucked his tongue. “Never presume to understand his thinking. That way lies madness. It seems he has work for us to do. If he knows of a way to end the Plague…if he has finally discovered the solution to that riddle, it is worth more than every ducat in Havenrook. An event like that would topple the Arch-Rike.”
“I don’t care about the Arch-Rike,” Hettie said. “It is that Kishion I would see humbled. It was unfair of him to cripple Paedrin like that. Now both of his arms are broken.”
Annon looked at her dark expression. “Will you go to Kenatos and seek the jewels Tyrus asked you for?”
She nodded gruffly. “I am a Finder, after all. And a Romani. It would not surprise me if the rubble was searched for treasures. There are thieves aplenty in that city. Any one worth his carnotha would have searched the grounds or bribed a guard for trinkets found.” She sighed. “Only I have nothing to barter for it, so I may have to steal it back.”
Annon felt a huge pang of worry for her. They had not known each other long, but the surge of protective feelings swelling in his heart startled him. As he had watched the Kishion strangle her, he would have done anything to stop it. He gripped her shoulder and then pulled her close.
“I was so worried when he was choking you,” he whispered, squeezing her. He knew that her life had been spared because he spoke. He would not have done any differently. Her hair brushed against his face, and he felt her arm offer a timid hug in reply.