Touch of Power
Page 9

Quain jumped to their defense. “We were outnumbered!”
“Didn’t stop you from rushing that whor—” Belen shot me a look. “That brothel.”
“It’s not a brothel when the girls are forced to be there,” Loren said with a quiet intensity.
Another reminder of our world gone mad. Not all survivors desired a return to normal. Some took full advantage of the depleted security and turned small towns into their own playgrounds.
“What happened?” I asked.
“We lent a hand,” Belen said. “Helped clean out that nest of nasties, got the town back on track and picked up those two for our trouble.”
“We’re returning the favor,” Loren said.
“Uh-huh.” Belen stretched out on his blankets, sighed and was soon snoring.
Considering how long he’d been awake, it was amazing he’d lasted that long.
My bedroll was close to Flea’s. He had been practicing the first step in learning how to juggle, tossing a stone from one hand to another. Flea mastered the motion of throwing the rock up to his eye level and letting it drop down to his other hand, making a path through the air like an inverted V while keeping both hands near his waist. I showed him the next step. Same motion, but using two rocks—trickier.
After a few tries, he started to get it. “That’s it, Flea. When the first stone is at the tip of the V, you throw the second.” I made encouraging noises.
He worked a while longer, then flopped back onto his blankets. “It’s too hard.”
Flea reminded me of my younger sister, Noelle. She would give up right away if a task proved too difficult. I wondered if she had gotten the plague and died just as quick.
No one who contracted the disease survived. Except those very first people the healers cured before they in turn died. Back when we hadn’t known it would become a plague. There had been enough sanity for the Healer’s Guild to send out notice to their members not to heal anyone who had those symptoms. Not even if there were a couple healers to share energy. It had been a logical decision. There were more sicknesses than healers. And it made sense to heal the ones we could. But that notice had been what condemned us all to death. Or rather, the wording of that missive. It hadn’t clearly stated that a healer would die if he helped a plague victim. It had said, “Success was unlikely at this time.”
I suppressed those dark thoughts, concentrating instead on the positive. Being with these men had renewed my interest in life. They’d been traveling throughout the Fifteen Realms, perhaps they’d heard of my family. Except Loren and Quain had also fallen asleep. Only Flea stared morosely at the cave’s ceiling.
“Don’t fret,” I said. “With more practice, you’ll be juggling in no time.”
He groaned. “That’s what those guys say all the time. Practice, practice, practice. It’s boring!”
I hid my smile. “You’re right.”
He sat up. “I am?”
“It’s very boring. Unfortunately, it’s necessary.”
Groaning, he plopped back onto his pillow. He waved a listless hand. “You can stop the lecture. I’ve got four fathers. I don’t need a mother.”
I gasped in mock horror. “You’re right. I’m sounding like my mother! I promise never to do it again.”
“Really?” Flea squinted at me.
“No. Sorry. An overdeveloped nurturing instinct comes with being a healer.”
He shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess everyone has their faults.”
“True.”
He pushed up to an elbow and looked at me for a moment. “Do you like being a healer? That cut you took from Belen had to hurt.”
“It does, but for less time than it would have hurt him.” Plus there was the satisfaction of helping another.
Flea huffed. “I don’t think Belen feels pain. I kicked him hard in the shins one time and he didn’t even blink.”
“Why did you kick him?”
“He wouldn’t let me go.” Flea’s eyelids drooped and he yawned.
I sensed a longer story, but I stifled my curiosity. Instead, I gently pushed him down and pulled the blanket up to his chin.
Flea gave me a sleepy half smile and said, “Belen won’t let you go, either.”
It was an odd statement and he noticed my concern.
“Not like that… Once you heal Prince Ryne, you won’t want to go.”
I jerked wide awake. “Prince Ryne of Ivdel Realm? He’s your friend? The one who’s sick?”
“Yeah, he—”
“Flea, go to sleep,” Kerrick said from behind me.
Flea grimaced an oops and turned onto his side.
Oops was putting it mildly. I gathered my belongings.
“What are you doing?” Kerrick asked. His voice low and deadly.
“Leaving.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking. I’m going.” I rolled up my thin mat and stuffed it into my knapsack.
“No, you’re not.”
Slinging my pack over my shoulder, I faced him. “There is no reason for me to stay. Go find another healer.”
“No.”
It was like talking to the rock wall. I raised my voice. “Let me make this perfectly clear. I will not heal Prince Ryne. Nothing you do or say will change my mind.”
The men stirred awake. Fury sparked in Kerrick’s eyes.
“Easy, Kerrick,” Belen said, sitting up.