Keepers of the Flame (21 page)

Elizabeth
stared at her, her own piece of bread halfway to her mouth.
You’ve met
someone?

Not
a sexual link.
Bri frowned.
Almost a familial connection, like a mentor.
She tried to
send
Elizabeth the feeling she’d had when she’d been with Zeres, the strong Song of
him, that sucking into darkness, but her memories were dim.

“Oh,”
Elizabeth said.

A
cough called them back to avidly watching medicas. The man who’d spoken
earlier, a lean man with stern face and respectable wings of gold in his hair,
caught Bri’s gaze. “Introducing you to the people yesterday was good. Morale
has been low, the atmosphere fearful. But today we must begin your training.”

His
gaze shifted from Elizabeth, neat and tidy and clean and smelling like good
herbs to Bri in her mass of wrinkles, doing the red tunic with white cross
uniform no honor. Comparisons again, and here! Exactly why she trained in
massage therapy and other alternative medicines somewhere else than Denver
where her sister went to medical school.

He
turned a gimlet eye on Bri and smiled in a way she didn’t quite like. “We’ll
adjourn to the parlor.”

Bri
muttered to Elizabeth, “Looks like they’re still going to try to whip
me
into shape today.”

Elizabeth
patted her shoulder, smiled widely. “That’s because I was such a good student
yesterday.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There
is
so much
you must learn.” A female medica fluttered her hands. Equally
plain they’d have preferred that Elizabeth had come to the city.

Eggs
dried in her throat. She straightened until her spine was as rigid as
Elizabeth’s, and swept a gaze at the medicas sitting at the table. She could
envision them flapping around her like a bunch of red birds, full of “Your
training. Your sister. You must do this and you must do that.”

Setting
her silverware down, she dabbed at her lips with a thick damask napkin, took a
sip of water and spoke, “I am not like my twin, who is well-trained in the
practices of our land, and an exceptional physician.” She glanced around again.
“You must have deduced that our portion of our world does not view medicine as
you do, and Elizabeth is unaccustomed to using only her hands and innate Power
to heal.” Bri lifted her hands stared at them, backs and palms. “I have used my
healing hands all my life, and trained in alternative medicine.”

“Yes,
but—”

“I’m
sure you’re full of things I must do and learn. I healed someone of the disease
yesterday—did any of you? Elizabeth treated wounds of Chevaliers—did any of
you?”

Brows
had lowered again, expressions of wary stubbornness molded the medicas’ faces.

“I’m
willing to work with you, to learn from you,
and
to discover with
Elizabeth and you how to cure this sickness. This is an
exchange
of
techniques and information.”

Before
the silence could thicken, and clash continue, Sevair said, “There’s news. We
believe we have determined where the sickness has come from. Frinks. A plant we
call frinkweed.”

Everyone
except the Castle medica seemed surprised.

“I
found it last night in a farmer’s field. A small moss-like plant with white
bell-like blossoms.”

Bri
gestured to the front of the house. “There’s some plants like that outside in
the square.”

“I
know,” Sevair said heavily. He shared glances with the other Citymasters. “We
know. We’re spreading the word.”

“Probably
not as fast as the damn plant spreads,” said one of the male medicas.

Sevair’s
jaw flexed. “We can only do our best.”

“As
you have always done,” an older woman soothed.

“I’ve
given the information to Circlet Jaquar Dumont. He took samples last night. He
did not recognize the plant, has seen none on Alf Island.”

“Exotique
Circlet Marian has lived on Alf Island for over a year,” someone said.

“And
the frinks stopped falling with the rain where Exotiques were,” Sevair said,
turning to look at Bri and Elizabeth in turn. “Another blessing bestowed simply
by your presence.”

Bri
blinked. No one had ever said anything so sweet to her.

“So
Jaquar and Marian are gone?” Elizabeth asked with a tinge of relief.

“No.
They called other Circlets to come from the islands to consult and take
samples.” He cleared his throat. “I was told that no Circlet has had a gift for
botany for generations.”

“Perhaps
the very reason the Dark chose this method for its plague,” a medica said.

“Probably,”
Sevair set his plate aside.

Lifting
her mug of tea to her mouth—welcome after the scent of alcohol that coated her
nostrils and tongue—Bri finished the last sip as the serving women came in and
cleared plates. They’d have been listening. She used her napkin, then rose.
“I’ll take a quick bath and change my clothes and be right with you. Are there
any more people with this frink-sickness?”

“We
do not know,” a female medica said primly.

Bri
puffed out a breath. “Then we might be ahead of this, for once.” Her shirt
stuck to her back—sweat, or the residue of ale that had transferred from the
floor of the tavern to her clothing while she slept. Or droplets from Zeres’s
flask and tankard as he’d gestured with it.

Elizabeth
stiffened beside her. “A tub. You have a tub?”

“You
don’t?”

“Only
showers in the tower. Baths in the bottom of the keep from hot springs.
Public
baths.”

Bri
snickered. “I have my own luxurious hot tub and tiled area in the garden level.
With opaque stained-glass windows.”

“Snot,”
Elizabeth said.

“You
want to share?”

“I
showered this morning.”

“I
will have one of the women bring down your clothes,” said Sevair formally. Bri
understood she’d disappointed him. She hated that. Her parents rarely scolded.
All they’d have to do was give her a disappointed look and it sliced her heart.
Even though, after a while, she realized her parents had perfected nuances of
expression to use on her.

When
Elizabeth made a poor decision, they all sat down like reasonable people—Bri
included at Elizabeth’s request since she was twin and support—and discussed
matters and options. Bri’s actions became part of a talk, but she always got
disappointed looks as consequences for impulsive choices.

Bri
didn’t get a chance to apologize to Sevair—which always worked with her
parents—because they were in a crowd of people. Unlike most everyone else, he
appeared weary, strain living behind his eyes, etching the small lines of his
face deeper. He’d probably not slept, been up dealing with this frinkweed and
looking for her. His
Song
told her so, with hesitations and lengthening
dips in rhythm.

She
laid her hand on his arm, and his music came strong and steady and…sweet. No,
not sweet, gentle or tender. She wasn’t prime this morning either. So she
opened the valve to the healingstream and let it sweep through her like a tide,
lapping exhaustion from her, settling new energy into her. Transferring some to
him.

He
stiffened, but was quiet under the rush of Power. Bri could almost see it
sinking into muscle and tendon and bone, nothing wasted, all cherished. His
eyes met hers and the color seemed lighter now that he was less exhausted. He
bowed. “My thanks.”

The
rest of the medicas and Citymasters observed them. Elizabeth beamed. “Nice
trick, isn’t it?”

One
of the medicas said, “She summons the Power so easily.” And Bri recalled that
only the Citymasters and Castle medicas had seen her work before.

“I
don’t think Sevair slept at all,” Bri said. “And my night wasn’t comfortable.”

Sevair’s
expression solidified into stony anger. “I’ll find this Zeres. Where—”

But
Bri was striding from the room and heading for the warmth and cheeriness of the
garden-level bath. She could already imagine it wreathing her in scented steam
and sliding along her skin.

When
she got there, she indulged in a good soak until she heard the slam of the
front door overhead and the sonorous demand of Zeres, “Where’s my student!”

Voices
clashed.

17

B
y the time Bri
got dried and dressed and up to the parlor, the medicas and Zeres were going at
it.

Only
the medicas and Sevair had remained, the latter with stern retribution on his
face.

Elizabeth
was frowning. She’d taken one look at Zeres and judged him.

As
the medicas had judged her by the state and smell of her clothes. She’d been a
wandering sheep who had returned, a party girl, a free spirit, not a kidnap
victim. Though her feelings had been somewhat mollified as she sensed sheer
relief from the Citymasters and had heard of their efforts to find her.

The
medicas and Zeres stood in the entryway, voices loud as they tried to impress
their opinion on each other. Zeres was attempting to talk about healing the
disease, and the medicas were running through all of Zeres’s failures. Bri
winced.

“That’s
what we call a ‘heated discussion’ if it happens in the teaching rooms,”
Elizabeth said.

“Really?”
Bri asked. “Zeres is the only one talking medicine. The others have lit into
him.”

Elizabeth
stiffened. “A physician’s manner and methods and…past have bearing on every
treatment.”

“You
think it’s fair? How did you feel when Cassidy caught you using your gift?” As
soon as the words were out, Bri regretted them. Elizabeth paled. Bri put an arm
around her shoulders and hugged her. “I shouldn’t have said that. But I’m tired
of being judged and found wanting, too.”

“You’ve
helped many with your gift!” Elizabeth said, and Bri was surprised to hear the
utter sincerity in her voice.

“Yes,
I have,” Bri said. “Both here and home on Earth.”

A
long, rising chord echoed through the house and everyone turned to the door,
Bri and Elizabeth lagging behind as they realized it was the door harp. If it
had been Earth there would have been thunderous knocking, the sound of urgency
and desperation.

Opening
the door, Sevair revealed what all had dreaded. Three more people with the
sickness: an old man with a cane; a teenaged boy leaning on his mother, tall
and thin and gray-faced; a limp young boy of about ten in his mother’s arms.

“Bring
them in,” Sevair said.

The
“heated discussion” came to an abrupt end.

The
old man tottered in. Sevair started forward as if to scoop the guy up, then
checked and bowed instead. “Master Mathias.”

“I
came as soon as I felt ill,” the old man said in a mellow voice.

“Very
good,” said the male medica who led the city doctors. They went to the large
front room which had been furnished as a home consulting-room-cum-surgery.

All
three patients were placed on beds that looked much like the massage tables Bri
was used to, covered with clean sheets and soft blankets.

Everyone
entered and someone closed the door, and a shiver of sound swept around the
room along with the scent of sage and lavender—a cleansing spell.

For
an instant the medicas and the twins and Zeres eyed each other, then Zeres took
the initiative. With an elegant gesture from a dirty hand, Zeres said to the
cluster of medicas, “Go ahead, heal them.”

The
physicians stirred. Their robes rustled angrily. “We can’t,” the head medica
muttered, chin jutting. “You cure one.”

Zeres
nodded slowly. “Very well, I will.” He went to a basin and washed his face and
hands, humming more cleansing spells, and the sound of his voice caught Bri
again—there was something
more
about Zeres than anyone else.

Elizabeth
said mentally,
I see what you mean. He isn’t like the rest.

No.

If
we can figure out what is different about him and train the other medicas….

Bri
stifled a small snort.
Good luck.

Elizabeth
gazed at Bri.
You have it, too, that extra quality to your Song, like Zeres.

Hunching
a shoulder, Bri said,
Yeah?

Yes.
I don’t have it.

Then
it must be an aspect of the healingstream.

Before
they could explore that, Zeres turned from the cupboard, moving like a
respected doctor under the scrutiny of all. He went to the old man. “Mathias,
you permit?”

The
old man’s eyes narrowed. He sniffed lustily. “You smell and look stale but not
drunk.”

Bri
crossed to Zeres, but he just sent her a cool glance. “I will not need your
help.”

She
stepped back to Elizabeth, knowing Zeres had to prove himself. It was in the
strained set of his shoulders. Zeres passed his hands over the patient, who
watched with keen eyes.