His anger was exhausting itself. The blue glow around his tense fingers dimmed. He shook his head, as if waking from a reverie.
The tone of his voice was less hurtful, less raw. “Khiara—tend to their wounds. We will not rest for long. Sleep if you can. Shion—guard the perimeter.”
After rolling up his sleeve, Annon saw the leeches sticking to the flesh of his arm. Their slimy black bodies were wriggling as they feasted on his blood. Hettie grunted in disgust and summoned the fireblood to her fingers and began plucking them off his arm, their bodies smoking and writhing as she pried them away. Annon clenched his teeth, struggling through the pain.
“On your neck as well,” Paedrin said, bending close. “Ugly little pustules.” He pinched away several and cast them aside. “You went face-first into that water, Annon. Hopefully there aren’t any inside you.”
“That’s disgusting, Paedrin,” Hettie chided.
He dropped into a low crouch, showing his vast flexibility. “I’m glad Tyrus didn’t chide me as well. I may not have controlled my temper so well.”
Hettie swore under her breath. “How could he say those things?” she muttered darkly. “It was unfair.”
“But it was true,” Paedrin quipped.
“You’re saying we should have left Annon to die?” She was incensed.
Annon looked back at the Bhikhu. His heart was still raw with pain from losing Nizeera. A blast of white-hot heat went through him, but Paedrin held up his hands placatingly.
“I’m not saying that at all. Look how quickly we turn on each other. This doesn’t bode well. I made a statement of fact. I didn’t say that I agreed with it. See how complex the Uddhava is? There are too many actions, each causing other actions and reactions. I’m not sure Tyrus would have abandoned you, Annon. He may have been testing us to see if we’d obey him, and we failed.”
“Testing us?” Hettie asked.
“Why not? We’re in a difficult situation. Tension is high right now. We’re wounded, frightened, and threatened. How we would normally act under normal situations is suddenly off. Tyrus needs to see how we’ll react to this new reality. At least, that’s my conclusion. He’s using the Uddhava. By scolding us, he’s trying to shape our future behavior.”
What Paedrin said made sense to Annon, but there was another, darker motive. A thought that slipped insidiously through his own mind. “There’s another possibility, Paedrin,” Annon whispered in a low voice. The very thought of it made him sick.
Paedrin rocked forward on his heels. “Yes?”
“There is a risk when using the fireblood,” Annon said. “If you do not think the words of power that tame it, prior to summoning it, then you can easily lose control of its use. The result is madness.”
Paedrin scowled at him. “I know that’s been a risk ever since I’ve met you two. Are you suggesting . . . ?”
Annon stared at him and nodded. “Our mother died using the fireblood to save Tyrus’s life. His own sister lost her mind as well. Hasn’t he been acting rather strangely since our encounter with the Vecses?”
“He knows the dangers we’re facing,” Hettie said, her voice guarded. “He also knows the risks of the fireblood better than anyone.”
“I know that, Hettie. But he does not seem quite himself. We should be cautious.”
Hettie nodded grimly. Then she gazed at his back and winced. “You’re bleeding profusely. That Weir slit your back into ribbons. It’s still bleeding. Khiara!”
The Shaliah finished treating Baylen’s wounds and then hurried to them, her face pinched with exhaustion. She examined Annon’s wounds, nodded with empathy, and then put her hand on his shoulder. Her healing magic suffused him. He was always impressed with the keramat, and its effects were instantaneous. Her powers had stopped him from dying at Neodesha’s tree, earning him the boon of learning her name. A rush of warmth and relief descended from his shoulders, going all the way down to his toes. He bowed his head reverently, feeling the grace of her power washing over him in waves. There was a poignant feeling, a wishing for release from the coils of life. Then the emotion passed and he was healed.
“Thank you, Khiara,” Annon said gratefully. In his mind, he saw Nizeera lying crumpled near the giant tree, tossed aside like refuse. Pain gnawed at his insides, replacing the calm relief with darkness. He clasped his knees, brooding. Glancing up, he saw Tyrus talking with Prince Aran, their heads low in deep conversation. Annon resented the scolding. Before he had been treated as the budding leader of the group. Even now, he wore a ring on his hand that could summon the Tay al-Ard to his fist. Being treated like an errant child was humiliating.
“Look at your legs, Hettie,” Khiara said. “Let me heal them.” Her gift was repeated twice, restoring Hettie and then Paedrin back to their full strength.
Khiara rose stiffly, swaying a little, and then walked back to Tyrus. “I am finished.”