One moment she was somewhere else and the next, with him. He saw the light come back in her eyes, the awareness, but her trembling continued and her mouth struggled to form words, still caught in the place where the mind was a contortionist and the body was paralyzed.
“I s-saw you,” she stuttered.
“And do you see me now?” he asked quietly, making sure she was with him in the present.
“Yes.” Her eyes closed briefly, but there was no relief in her face. He released her, moving away. When she slept near him, he kept his distance. He had to.
“I saw her.”
He didn’t have to ask who she meant.
“She will not hurt you. I will not let her,” he promised.
“It is not me I am afraid for,” she murmured.
“If she wanted to harm me, she could have done so many, many times. Yet she hasn’t.”
She nodded, agreeing with him, her eyes darker than the night outside his window. But he knew she hadn’t shared all she’d seen, hadn’t told him all she feared. Sasha told stories, but she never told lies. Maybe her dreams felt like lies. Or maybe she simply didn’t dare speculate on what she didn’t completely understand. Lark would tell her that was wise, that words could be spoken into reality.
He didn’t kiss her or pull her close to comfort her, and she didn’t seek it. Alone this way, with nothing to stop them, the only thing keeping them apart was never coming together in the first place. He did not touch her and she did not touch him, not in the dark, not in that way. Not yet. And pleasure did not belong in the same bed as fear.
She didn’t return to sleep but lay quietly beside him until dawn, as if staying awake would allow her to see the threat before it came to pass. Just before daybreak, she crept from his bed, and he let her go, feigning sleep so she wouldn’t worry that she’d disturbed him.
Before she slipped out the door he thought he heard her whisper. “I will not let her hurt you.”
***
Kjell was not the only Healer in Jeru. Healers who had kept the secret of their abilities for longer than he, who could wield and heal with little thought, lived among the people of Jeru. Spinners, Changers, and Tellers too. They had congregated in Nivea, near the ancient seabed, among artisans and craftsmen, just beyond the Jeru City walls. When Tiras passed the edict protecting all people, even the Gifted, they had not seen fit to venture out. Change was difficult, even for those who could change at will. Instead, Jeru came to them.
At Lark’s urging, Kjell brought Sasha to Nivea to see if the old Teller and diviner of Gifts, Gwyn, could unravel the mystery of Sasha’s past. Like before, his presence was noted immediately and looked on with some trepidation. His past had not been forgotten in Nivea, and his gift did not greatly impress.
He found Gwyn in the garden of the small home of Shenna the Healer, sitting with her face tipped to the sun, drinking in the rays as if they sang to her. And maybe they did.
“The Healer returns,” she greeted, not opening her eyes. “I knew you would.”
“You’re a Seer. I’m not especially impressed. And Shenna told you I was coming.”
“Still so prickly. In a world of Changers, it is good that some things stay the same.”
Kjell sat across from the woman, knowing what she expected. The stool had been placed there for him, he had no doubt.
“She is lovely, the woman you brought home from Quondoon. Where is she?”
“The gods save me from Seers,” he sighed, only half-serious. “She is with Shenna, in the cottage. I wanted a moment with you alone,” Kjell retorted.
“And why is that, Healer?”
“Don’t you know?” Kjell replied dourly.
“I am not all-knowing, Captain. My eyes see what they will, and I’ve never been able to choose.”
“That’s what Sasha says.”
“She is a Seer,” Gwyn said. “And she was punished for it.”
“Yes, and I healed her. She was near death. It was the first healing I have performed on a stranger.”
“The most difficult healing of all, sharing your gift with someone you’ve never met,” Gwyn remarked.
“I almost doubted it could be done.” He was comforted by the knowledge that she understood.
“Even the queen—as powerful as she is, as magnificent as her ability—is bound by certain constraints. Imagine how terrible the world would be if men were all-powerful,” Gwyn murmured. Neither of them spoke of the king who had been very powerful indeed.
“I tried to heal her twice. The first time, she was near death. The second, seriously wounded. The second time, I almost failed. It took hours and every ounce of strength I had to close her wounds.”
“You were successful?” She sounded shocked.
“Yes . . . but she still bears the scars.”
“You are a powerful Healer, indeed,” she marveled.
“I will not be able to heal her again,” he mourned. “I can feel it.”
“No. Probably not. Every gift has its limitations. We are delicate creatures, aren’t we? But our fragility makes us better people. It is good that the gift we want most is the one we aren’t given.” She paused. “A Healer cannot heal himself.”
He nodded. “Yes. I know.”
“When you heal, you give your very self away,” she explained.
“Shenna told me for every life I restore, I lose a day of my own,” he said.
“But Healers live longer than most,” she reassured. “Still . . . I’m not talking about shortening years upon the land, Healer. When you heal, especially great wounds, your life force merges with the life you save. And that person becomes part of you. A Healer cannot heal himself,” she repeated slowly. “Thus he cannot heal twice. Or very rarely.”
She smiled, her face wrinkling into a thousand lines, and Kjell resisted the urge to smooth them, simply to see if he could.
She brought his hand to her face, as if she knew he wanted to touch her and was too reticent to do so. Her skin was warm from the sun, and he held his palm there, pressed against her cheek, soothed by her presence.
“In Solemn, I healed two hundred people, most of them very ill.”
“A wonderful gift. And depending on the severity of the illness and the depth of the healing, you will not be able to give it to them again.”
“What use am I to those I love if I can’t heal them whenever they need it?” he whispered.
“The people who love you do not love you for your power, Kjell. That is their gift to you.” Gwyn patted his hand and brought it to her lap, palm up, looking at the lines there. They sat in contemplative silence for several moments.
“But that is not the only reason you’ve come, is it?” she needled.
“No.” Kjell guessed she already knew exactly why he was there.
“Then bring her to me, lad.” Gwyn grinned, swatting at his hand, a twinkle in her eye.
Kjell turned to fetch the women, but saw they were already approaching. Gwyn tipped her head toward them, as though her ears worked better than her eyes.
Sasha greeted the old Teller as she had greeted the queen, with a deep curtsy and a bowed head.
“Come, girl. I’m just an old woman. No need for that,” Gwyn protested, but Kjell could see that the greeting pleased her. “Sit beside me.”