Healer (11 page)

“Something
like
that. I was left with only a few words to discover what
I truly was.”

Ashpin glanced up at
the prince. “Were your parents taken by illness?” He kicked a pebble to the
side of the road. “I didn’t think Healers got sick.”

“We don’t.” The tone
was sharp, but quiet. “Imagine being something other than human and not even
know it.”

“How did you manage?”

The prince waved a
hand.
“Trial and error.
Eventually, I found my
father.”

“And?”
Ashpin’s quick response reflected his interest. “Was
he as you expected?”

“Huh.
Anything but.”

Anything
but?
The boy wondered what
might have happened between the two. Had they fought? Had he shown the prince
his true heritage, or did someone else do it?
If I were to find my father
today, would he be the same?
Or anything but?

A
chuckle next to him.
“Don’t let it
worry you.” The prince tapped the side of his head at the boy’s quizzical
expression. “I can hear present thoughts. To answer that, we...quarreled, yes.
But I think in the end there was a decent amount of respect to see me back in
the human realms.”

Ashpin nodded. He
could see the town just ahead. Already, the tree line was receding from the
road, allowing larger pockets of sunlight until they were both bathed in its
golden warmth. He took a sidelong glance at the prince, a halo of reflected
light over his white hair. That drew a smile. He could relate to Wisdom’s
story. So, in turn, could the prince relate to
his.

Slowly, the cloud of
depression began to lift.

They passed the first
set of buildings, with a good majority of people already walking the streets.
Different venders were set up along the storefronts. The draw of customers not
only benefited merchants, but shops.

A dark-haired man
trotted over from one of the stands.

“Morning!” the prince
greeted.

“Fine
day!”
He gripped Wisdom’s hand in
a firm shake. “Ye’ve done it!” He motioned wildly to the many customers
checking out each stand. “Ye said one-of-a-kind items, and now people are
coming for ‘em!”

“And I’m glad to see
it’s
working. We’ll need the profits to make the realm
grow.”

“Grow?” Ashpin
pondered the word. “As in, expand like Lexington?”

The merchant rubbed
his chin in thought. “Well, that now…that would depend on how much ye make.
Lexington took right many years to build it up to that level. But… ye’ve a nice
start here.”

The prince grinned.
“Actually, when I said ‘grow’, I meant profit. Lexington’s steeped in a history
created from the wealthy. What I’m trying to do is simply provide a good life for
the people already here. Isn’t that right, Blackavar?”

His friend crossed his
arms. “Well said.”

“Have you met my new
apprentice?”

Ashpin’s sudden
jaw-drop at the question was met with a few laughs.

“Ye
serious?”
Blackavar glanced over
the boy.
“Familiar looking.
Have we crossed at some
point, perhaps up north?”

“I...was up that way.”
Yet Ashpin was quick to return to the former question, having no recollection
of the dark-haired merchant in Lexington. “Were you really considering me as an
apprentice?”

“I may,” Wisdom said,
though he cast a cheeky grin to his companion.
“Though I’ll
have to figure out what to teach you.”

Blackavar acknowledged
the comment with a nod,
then
lowered his voice to a
whisper. “Ye could always teach ‘im the ways of the guild.”

Ashpin leaned in
closer to listen.
A guild?
He wondered what
type of guild the prince had associated with, or if he still belonged to one
now.
I guess being a Healer entitles him to secrets,
to which the prince
smiled.

Ashpin kept his
thoughts in check as he surveyed the buildings. The Tudor-style shops contained
no awnings, though some of the carts were covered to keep their goods from
direct sunlight. A whiff of fresh paint scented the breeze, and when he checked
further down the street he noticed several men hanging a horizontal sign over a
doorway. The road through town was mostly dirt, except at the end where the
buildings rose a little higher. For those, he could just make out a stone
foundation and wide façade, with laid cobblestone instead of dirt. Black iron
fencing marked the beginning to the upscale section.

“What’s on that side
of town?” Ashpin asked, directing the prince’s attention down the street.

“That marks Schevolsky
property. Remember who gave you trouble the other day? He’s part of that
family.
Luckily, the only one to still act a fool!”

Ashpin grinned. “Like
him to try that stunt again.”

“Only
if he’s after pies.”
Wisdom
chortled.

“Speaking of which,”
Blackavar said, “a fine woman from that far shop said that a Mr. Phine’s pie was
ready.”

Wisdom motioned toward
the building. “What better timing? Would you mind, Ashpin, to fetch it for me?
We can deliver it to the harbor afterwards.

“Easy
enough.”

It did not take long
for Ashpin to reach the small bakery. When he stepped inside, most of the floor
place was taken by stacked crates and mini barrels. Each was cushioned with
straw for displaying goods – mostly dishware and canned items. There was no one
inside, so Ashpin let his nose do the work for him. He could smell baked apples
and followed the scent toward the back. As he turned the corner, a munching
sound made him pause. With a slight smirk, he had a mind
who
was also in the room.

Before
him stood Peter, bent over a pie by the windowsill.
The sound of smacking lips and loud swallowing met
his ears.

“Are you just
desperate?” Ashpin calmly said.

Peter whirled on his
heels, smearing pie across his chin in the process. Behind him, an open window
confirmed how he had entered. A passing breeze ruffled his short, blond hair
around the ears. He continued chewing, not caring if Ashpin saw him suck a few
fingers after digging them under the piecrust.

“Not bothering me.”
Ashpin shrugged. “But if I were you, I’d be mindful of someone else’s wrath.”

Peter just continued
eating. Only when he finished did he wipe his mouth across a sleeve. He held
out the half empty dish.

“What of it?” and let
it drop.

The dish smacked the
floor with a loud
splat!
Apple slices and crust burst from its
container, splattering all the way to Ashpin, who merely glanced down at a few
wet spots on his shoe. He firmed his jaw. Apple juice he could handle.
Incompetence was another.

“You think I’m taking
the blame for this?” He crossed his arms. “They already know you’re
responsible.”

“Not unless they don’t
see me!” Peter made a dash for the window. He was halfway out when Ashpin
yanked him back inside. Although Peter was slimmer, the weight difference
toppled them both. Over pie-smeared floor they rolled, punching and cursing.
Their squabble jostled a crate hard enough to spill jars and dishes from its
display. Ignoring the splatter of syrups sticking to their clothes, they kept
on until, out of breath, the two scrambled to separate corners.

For several moments
neither said a word. Ashpin listened for the hopeful sounds of someone entering
the building. Alas, none came. He noted a lantern swinging lazily back and
forth over one of the crates.
How did we bump that?

“What
happened...to the others?”
Ashpin
asked in between quick breaths.
“The ones who helped you the
other day?”

“I don’t need help!”
Peter picked up a jar and threw it –
hard
.

Ashpin ducked behind a
barrel just as the jar whizzed overhead. It smashed against the far wall.
Doesn’t anyone else hear this?

“What’s your deal?”
Ashpin cautiously peered over the barrel. “So you got caught. Fess up and get
over it!”

Peter had another jar,
tossing it from hand to hand.
“To who?
That filthy albino?”
He sauntered toward Ashpin’s shielded
location, jar still in hand. “He’s got my father wrapped around his finger like
some stringed puppet!” He took a swing. Glass shattered, forcing Ashpin to
cover his face. Cold jam slid down his arm, making him angry.

“I wouldn’t know the
details.” Ashpin gritted his teeth. “I’m just here to collect pie.”

The boy grabbed a
nearby tray, not caring if it knocked over anything at this point. He shielded
himself from another hit. Yet before Peter could pick up anything else, Ashpin
rushed him. Keeping the tray between them, he forced the other boy toward the
back window. The floor was slick. Without warning, Ashpin lost his footing. He
felt the tray being ripped from his grasp. A sharp kick to the abdomen left him
breathless.

Sliding on his belly,
Ashpin saw another kick coming and grabbed the boy’s leg. He held tight as
Peter tried to shake him off, then dragged him through remaining pie and syrup.
By now, both were skidding over spots of slippery goo, with Peter’s thrashing
getting more desperate.

A sudden crash made
them both pause. The lantern, previously swinging from above, had broken from
its holder over one of the crates. Smoke immediately fumed as oil from within
soaked through straw and ignited.

“We have to put it
out!” Ashpin released Peter’s leg. On hands and knees, he scrambled over the
floor trying to get up.
“Hurry!”

“We’re not through
here yet!” Peter grabbed hold of Ashpin’s collar.

Finding his footing,
Ashpin slammed an elbow to Peter’s gut. It was enough time to grab an empty
sack and start beating out the flames. Jars toppled from the force of each
swing. The sack seemed to be working when something heavy landed on his back.

“Get off!” Ashpin
tried slamming himself against a wall. “What’s wrong with you? We’ll both get
killed!” The smell of smoke intensified.

An arm wrapped around
his neck, cutting off air.

Should have walked
out; should have let him go
, Ashpin
kept thinking.

From the corner of his
eye, something dropped from a corner stairway. Tall and dark, he figured it was
something else falling from their chaos. Yet at Peter’s gasp and sudden
release, he knew otherwise.

He turned around as
Peter slumped into the arms of another, but there was no time to distinguish
the intrusion.

“Finish it!”
came
a deep, accented woman’s voice.

He did just that. The
flames finally died down, leaving only a haze that clouded the shop’s interior.
He was glad Peter had left the window open, for it helped direct the smoke
outside.

He turned to the
stranger. Her image was a mere silhouette against the window. As his eyes
adjusted to her uncanny appearance, he realized she was anything but human.

“Who—”

“I had thought the
lantern would bring him to his senses.” She sighed, holding the boy close to
her breast. A dark outfit complemented her appearance. Long, black locks framed
a russet face and dark lips. Yet it was those fiery, amber eyes that held his
attention. When she turned away, a hint of wings dipped into view.

The sound of voices
drew his attention toward the front.

“Tell no one but the
prince.”

Ashpin looked back to
a ripple of smoke gathering where she had once stood. He glanced down at his
spoiled clothing.
I could tell them the lantern broke and I took on fire and
had to roll in pie to get it out.

The door opened. A
woman screamed.

*****

A raven rested on a
limb that overlooked the road. On one side stretched a vast forest. On the
other, a lively field of tall grasses rolled like a sea when the wind blew. The
smell of
Lo-ans’rel
was informative, but welcome.

He was on the right
path.

Opal eyes strained for
distant signs of human settlements. In this form, Jangus felt secure. Black
feathers easily blended with shadow, creating an ideal form of camouflage. In
Lexington, he had eavesdropped on conversation,
then
left his own droppings as a way to mark territory.

He cackled.
I
should mark them all again upon my return!

A sharp clap of
thunder captured his attention further down the road. From flight, he had seen
a great storm. Its building mass of revolving clouds butted against a
sun-filled sky as though a sheet of glass separated the two. Yet, as uncanny as
it seemed, this troubled Jangus very little.