Sea of Sighs (Empath Book 2) (23 page)

Tarik shrugged. “I’m not knowledgeable in
this. I’m a master with the blade, Quinn. If you’re feeling brave,
you can ask Baron Pax whether he will let you speak to any of his
scholars. They must have information you can use in the libraries.
You’re here to help our cause, so anything that helps you, will
help us as well.”

“I can’t ask him on my own. Can you come
with me?”

“I’m not your nursemaid girl, you should be
able to go to the baron on your own.”

“I can’t, can you see? I haven’t seen him
since I got here. I’m not sure I can just present myself to him and
make demands.”

Tarik seemed to contemplate this for a
second before responding. “Okay, girl, I shall make you a deal.
Your friends who came with you? They are both fine. One of them has
been studying with the healers, and he’s meant to be seeing the
baron tonight. So, you pick up that sword, get to your feet, and
actually put some effort into one of these lessons, and I’ll take
you to see your friend. Maybe then you can go and see the baron
together, and you can ask these questions about your father. Do we
have an agreement?”

Quinn didn’t respond with words, instead she
threw herself to her feet, grabbing her sword and holding it firmly
in her fist.

Tarik laughed.
“If
only you were always so keen.”

Tarik was true to his
word, and though Quinn’s shoulders and back ached with the effort
of the swings, her side biting from the pain of the vicious blow to
her shoulder, as the sun dipped below the walls Tarik led her
through the city. He brought her to a stop outside an anonymous and
unassuming building in a poor district. Quinn asked him why the
healers were located in such a place if they were so valuable.

“Because, girl, this is where most people
need healing.”

In the streets all around them, children
with rags for clothes and filthy bare feet skittered around
excitedly. Used to seeing the healers, but excited by the
strangers, they approached in droves, begging for money. Tarik
shooed them away with the staff he brought with him especially for
the purpose. Quinn thought it cruel, but he pointed out that if he
didn’t shoo them away, they’d likely be robbed blind. These weren’t
casual street urchins, and were likely in the employ of the Guild
of Thieves. Tarik wasn’t in any immediate danger—the baron’s
swordmaster would never be a target for any thief that wanted to
keep his hands and his head—still, it would have been more than
awkward to get his purse back and Tarik would rather avoid the
inconvenience.

The building itself, Quinn would never have
picked out as the home of the most skilled healers in Farn. That
was Maertn’s home now. The only sign—the only indicator that there
was anyone helpful there—was an ornate carving above a plain brown
door. There were three balls in a triangle, and this shape, too,
was contained within a circle. The circle was sitting in the palm
of a right hand, and there was nothing more. Quinn recognised the
symbol from a story scroll. She was about to knock on the door when
Tarik held her back. Instead, he reached out with his staff and
whacked three times, the sound strong in the comparative silence of
the alleyway. Quinn expected such a racket to bring someone
straight to the door, but they waited for what seemed like an
absolute age before she heard bolts being slid back and the
creaking of ill-attended hinges, indicating the door was being
opened. An old man poked his head out through the doorway, and
Quinn thought it must have taken so long because he was clearly
incapable of walking any faster than a fish. Tarik filled the
silence.

“We’re here to see the master.”

The old man looked them up and down. “You
don’t look ill. Which master do you need?”

“You know who I am, Ban, let’s not play this
game. I know that master is in residence. He’s been teaching that
new lad that the baron brought in. Just once, please, can we spare
ourselves the wretched dance you put me through, and can you let me
in to see Rall?”

The man wheezed—Quinn assumed this was some
sort of laugh—and yanked the door open the rest of the way. Quinn’s
jaw dropped. The way the man had opened the door at first, you’d
think he was barely capable of lifting a cup, let alone heaving
open a great oaken door. Ban slid it to one side as if it weighed
nothing. So, the old man act was just that, clearly meant to put
newcomers off guard. Remembering Tarik’s earlier suggestion, Quinn
let out a tendril of her power in the direction of Ban. What she
felt was warm; there was no wickedness there. Whilst he seemed
curious, she couldn’t feel all the way inside his mind, and she
suspected there was a lot more to Ban than met the eye. That he was
here suggested he was a healer, so perhaps he was just more
experienced in his craft than Maertn have been. Perhaps when
healers became more skilled, they were difficult to read.

“Who’s this you’ve brought with you, Tarik?
Won’t you introduce me?”

Tarik spat, not breaking his stride to
answer. “She’s the empath you heard about.”

This did bring Ban up short, and he spun on
his heel to regard Quinn with sharp eyes. “Empath, is it? And have
you already assessed me girl?”

Quinn cleared her throat. “Yes, I have. Do
you a problem with that?”

Quinn thought she saw Tarik smirk, but if he
did, he managed to hide the expression before Ban circled on him,
too. “You bring an empath in here without declaring her to me? What
is the meaning of that?”

Tarik shrugged. “She’s not an enemy. She’s
barely into womanhood. She’s not a threat to you. She’s just here
to see her friend.”

“That little boy? Everfell born and bred?
You two are going to be trouble for us. I can feel it.”

Quinn bristled. “Oh? And how is that?”

Ban looked her up and down. “Because you’re
already both brazen using powers in the presence of masters who
know better. It’s polite to ask, not to take. That Maertn’s been
the same, thinking he knows everything already, trying to teach us
lessons. It’s not right.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous, is that it? A young
whippersnapper comes in already more powerful than you, and you’re
unhappy about it Ban?” This was Tarik’s turn, and Quinn opened
herself up to quickly tell that the barbs had hit home. Ban
apparently wasn’t the strongest of the healers here, and Maertn had
already started putting noses out of joint. Despite herself, Quinn
was proud of her friend. She’d always known he was special, and he
was already proving himself amongst the most powerful men in his
craft.

“It’s no business of yours what the healers
get up to, Tarik, you know that. If you’ve come to see Rall, then
come and see him. Stop wasting
my
precious time.”

Tarik shrugged, “You’re the one that
stopped.”

They carried on in bitter silence, and Quinn
didn’t hide her curiosity as they walked through the healer’s
compound. The outside of the building had been grey, and the inside
opened not into what she thought would be rooms, but into an
atrium. They were walking through a colonnade, and in the middle
was a small sand garden. It was immaculate, and not a single weed
broke through the pristine grains. They were deliberately walking
around it, and she instinctively knew that no one dared stand
within that square. Others darted around them, but it wasn’t with
the urgency of the castle of Everfell, nor with the chaos of the
port. The home of the healers was a place of calm resilience, and
everybody here knew what purpose they served.

“Where are all of the people that come to be
healed?”

Quinn couldn’t learn more about her new home
unless she asked questions. This was one of more important places
she needed to know about.

“This is just the home of the healers. This
is not the hospital. That's elsewhere in the city, though the day
one such as you sees that is a sad day indeed. We serve there, but
we don't live there. We can't heal everybody, even if all of us
lived in the place permanently. If we used all of our power of the
time, we’d all burn ourselves out.”

After passing through the colonnade, they
entered through an archway and walked through a hall that had a
well at its centre. There were various men sprawled around here.
Some were engaged in conversation, where others lay flat-out, their
mouths open and their eyes closed in sleep. In the next room there
were rows and rows of tables, one chair at each, and Quinn realised
it was a little classroom. There were just two people in this room:
One student with his head bowed to the desk, and another man
scratching at a black wall with a small piece of white chalk. The
noise made Quinn wish she could close her ears, so she was glad
that the master put the chalk down as soon as they walked into the
room.

“Tarik! To what do I owe this honour?”

“My student has finished for the day. I
heard yours is having a meeting. I was wondering if they could
accompany each other.”

“Mine is due to see the baron.”

“Yes, I was hoping he’d be able to take mine
with him.”

This man, who Quinn presumed was the master
Rall, arched an eyebrow. “Will the baron be expecting this
addition?”

“No, but I don't think is an unwelcome one.
You know perfectly well who I've been teaching this week.”

“I do. I just want to make sure you’re not
making any foolish mistakes. It would be…expensive for you.”

“I couldn’t put a foot wrong with this girl
if I tried. She is guaranteed coin for me.”

At the mention of her gender, Maertn’s head
whipped around. Quinn held back a gasp of surprise. His eyes were
dark, circled with purple bruises. His face looked sunken. What had
he been doing to himself? He looked ill—mortally so—and where Quinn
felt invigorated despite her aches and pains, Maertn looked like he
was pushing himself to death's door.

“Quinn!” Though his face was beginning to
look skeletal, Maertn’s voice was strong, not showing any sign of
wavering even though his skin was starting to stretch across his
young bones. “Quinn, I have missed you! How are you? You look
amazing!”

Quinn didn’
t hide her
opinion.
“I wish you could say the same about you. What’s
been happening?”

“His study to become a proper healer has
begun, and that training is not yours to question,
empath,
”
Rall responded. Quinn wanted to give him the rude barb that sat on
the edge of the tongue. Tarik’s staff whipped up in front of her
face, and she jammed her mouth shut.

“You’ll have to forgive
my
new
charge, she’s somewhat headstrong.”

“With her breeding, I’m not surprised.
You’ll have your hands full trying to keep this one in check.”

“Indeed? And what do you claim to know about
my
breeding
?” Quinn
emphasised the word, not happy at what the man was insinuating.
master or not, she was not there to be insulted or spoken down to,
and she would make sure every man and master in Sha’sek knew
it.

“Come girl, you must know who your father
is? There aren’t many other candidates. Still, it must be hard for
you, coming from somewhere like Everfell and then finding out your
father started—and ended—a war. Still, I suppose as a healer, I
shouldn’t be too concerned, it meant fewer casualties, after
all.”

“
Indeed,
” Tarik
interrupted. “And you should know better than to tease students.
Leave the girl alone, it’s not fair on her.”

Not
fair
,
Quinn thought. Tarik might have had her best
interests at heart, but this Rall knew more than he was letting on.
Quinn didn’t want him to stop, but realised then that, as Tarik had
said, he could have been mocking her. More and more his lesson on
using her powers was hitting home, especially within this guild of
so-called kindly healers. Quinn felt like she was surrounded by
enemies. Just looking at the change in Maertn made her fearful for
their future here. Maertn didn’t seem aware of the changes in him;
he even had a positive air about him.

“If you’re feeling brave enough to let your
student attend the baron with mine unannounced, then I shan’t be
the one to stop you. Why would I? I enjoy you looking like an
idiot, especially coming at my expense. It will be something funny
to talk about over dinner later. Maertn, you are dismissed, make
sure you have the essay across to me tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, master, of course.” Maertn bobbed his
head in assent, before standing and rushing to Quinn. He embraced
her, and his strong arms reminded her that he was a robust man, no
matter what is face looked like. Perhaps he wasn’t eating, and had
gotten overexcited with his studies. No matter what, she should ask
him on the way to the baron, when they were out of the listening
walls of the healers’ home and the clever ears of their
masters.

“Go with him now, girl. I want you back in
the barracks before the moon rises, though.”

“Absolutely master, I’ll be there.”

Tarik nodded firmly, signalling her away.
Maertn grabbed Quinn by the hand, almost dragging her out of the
building, not stopping as they dashed back through the room with
the well, and through the serene garden with the colonnades. He
didn’t stop to talk to his peers, Quinn did not hesitate because he
was excited to get out of there, and that was not a bad thing. She
couldn’t stop glancing over those bruises under his eyes, and
whilst they did look like sleep deprivation, she couldn’t be sure
that his new master wasn’t striking him.

After her heavy day under the unerring
tutelage of Tarik, Quinn couldn’t run too far before she dragged
back on Maertn, hauling him to a stop. Quinn doubled over, her
hands on her upper legs, trying to catch a breath.

“Stop. I need to rest.”