Kjell stiffened and knew Sasha felt his response.
“There are oil lamps on every surface, Isak,” Sasha instructed as they neared the bottom. Isak lit the lamps, one by one, and as the wicks caught, the cavernous room brightened until the shadows danced. Bottles and vials lined the shelves, and a dried out inkwell and two leather-bound books, complete with drawings and detailed descriptions, were open on a sturdy table as if someone had been perusing them recently.
“Koorah was a Healer, but she wanted to be a physician too. There are notes on everything—the tonics and ointments she created from the herbs of Caarn—and there are journals there,” Sasha pointed at the far wall, “filled with accounts of healings and sickness. Aren said that she believed the ability to heal shouldn’t be limited to the Gifted. She wanted to share her gift.”
Kjell touched the bottles, noting the careful labeling—tonic for fever, for snakebites, for coughing, for stomach ailments.
“These cures have to be older than I am,” he whispered, and immediately regretted his choice of phrasing. “They are liable to poison anyone who partakes.”
“But they could be replicated,” Sasha urged.
“Sasha,” he sighed. Then he flinched. He had promised himself he would not say her name, that he would remain removed and politely appropriate. “Majesty, I am a warrior who has been given the gift to heal. I am not a scholar or an alchemist. I can barely read and would go mad in this room if left here more than an hour. Surely, you know this.” He cursed himself again. He did not need to remind her of their familiarity.
She smiled at him, her lips curving in a way that was both tender and tortured.
“Yes. I know this. I am going to seek out the gifts of my people. If we do not know what we are capable of, what we each have to offer, then we waste time and talent. We are not all Tree Spinners. We are not all Growers. It is time we discover what hidden abilities exist among us. These are Koorah’s books. I only wanted your permission and your approval if we find someone who could continue her work. Perhaps . . . you would like to take them to your chamber, to look through them first, before you allow someone else to study them?”
Kjell looked at Isak, who hung back, his expression carefully bland, his eyes neutral. Kjell was not fooled. He had little doubt his men had all heard the name Koorah by now, and that they had all discussed Kjell’s possible link to the princess of Caarn in great detail. It was his own fault, he supposed. He had argued heatedly with the queen in the corridor where her picture was hung. Even so, his men were like gossiping hags, the whole lot of them. They all spent too much time together, cared too deeply about one another, and were endlessly curious about him. It had always been that way. The more he kept hidden, the harder they looked.
“Where would I begin?” he murmured, touching the page of the book that lay open on the table before him.
Sasha moved to the shelf that held the volumes. She pulled the first one down, ran her hand across it, wiping at more than three decades of dust.
“The best thing about books is that you can start wherever you like. The pages are in order, but no one will know if you read the last one first.”
He took the heavy volume from her, enjoying the weight and the shape of it, the permanence and the possibility. If it had belonged to his mother, he would like to read it. Alone. With care.
His eyes skipped back to Isak and away again.
“I would like to begin immediately,” Kjell said abruptly.
Sasha smiled, nodding, and he realized she misunderstood. He shook his head, correcting her assumption.
“The vials and potions can wait. The books as well. I want to know which gifts exist in Caarn.”
He needed to find another Healer.
They began their query in the Great Hall, but quickly discovered the foolishness of the idea and retired to a clearing at the wood’s edge. The Gifted were destructive. The edict had gone out—passing from mouth to mouth and ear to ear—that King Aren and Queen Saoirse were in search of rare gifts, and for an entire day the clearing was filled with both the curious and the brave. People were slow to come forward, afraid of laughter or scorn, but with a little reassurance from the king and kind pleading from the queen, the Gifted began to show themselves.
Kjell stood to the side, his hand on his sword, his eyes on the gathering, letting the king and queen conduct the quest. He kept close enough to observe and far enough away not to obstruct. The king was fascinated by the demonstrations and displays, laughing and clapping his hands in appreciation of every effort, big or small.
And some were very small.
A woman who had come to Caarn from another village in Dendar could make herself the size of a caterpillar. Her husband raised her proudly in the palm of his hand for them all to see before setting her back down so she could resume her size.
One of the young maids who had come from Jeru, a woman they called Tess, had a hidden gift as well. Sasha questioned her in surprise, asking her why she had not shared her ability sooner. Tess shrugged and worried her hands.
“It’s a silly gift, Majesty,” she said. She chewed her nail, caught herself, and shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her long apron.
“All gifts are welcome,” Sasha urged.
“I can call water,” she admitted.
“From the skies?” the king asked, surprised. Such a gift would be powerful indeed.
“Perhaps. I haven’t tried very hard. There was never a need before. It is easier to call the water beneath my feet.”
“Can you show us?” the king pressed.
Tess stepped out of her shoes and woolen socks and lifted her skirts to her knees. The assembly watched as the dirt around her bare toes became increasingly damp, growing in an ever-widening pool.
“My mother would slap me when I was small. She thought I . . . she thought I was wetting myself,” she said in a rush. “I would think of water, and it would just . . . rise. I’ve gotten better at controlling it.” The little maid turned red. “I know where to dig the wells, where the water is fresh, and where it will quickly run dry,” she added. “Maybe that could be of use?”
“Such a gift would have been greatly appreciated in a place I once lived,” Sasha said quietly. Her eyes found Kjell’s before shifting away.
A man named Gaspar, who had come from outside of Caarn and sought work in the castle guard, stepped forward next. He was quiet and competent, always willing to do whatever was asked of him.
“I cannot change . . . but my eyes can,” he said simply. With no further explanation, his eyes became elongated, the irises yellow, and the pupils tall and oddly-shaped, like those of a feline. “I can see in the dark. It makes me a good hunter, a good watchman.” He looked expectantly at Kjell as he spoke, clearly eager to share his skill where it would be most appreciated.