Michelle West - Sun Sword 04 - Sea of Sorrows (113 page)

"Finch, what is he saying?" Angel demanded.

"I think he's saying Jay saved his life."

"When?"

"Angel." She lifted the hand that wasn't hanging on to him, and turned it, palm out, in front of his face. "We're trying to find out."

Levec frowned. "How do you know that, boy?" he said, as if the rest of their conversation hadn't taken place. Or wasn't important enough to pay attention to.

"I heard her."

"You must have been dreaming." Finch could tell, by the sudden unease in Levec's frown, that he was having second thoughts about his invitation to the ATerafin den of Jewel.

"I wasn't dreaming," the boy replied confidently. Quietly. "I couldn't see anything, but I could hear
her
. She was… upset."

"What do you mean, upset?"

"Carver, have a care." Daine, silent until that moment, joined Finch. He did not touch Angel, but he stood close enough that he could. If it was necessary.

Finch had never heard Daine speak anything other than Weston, but it didn't surprise her that he could.

"She thought I was dead. She thought I was dead but—" He shook his head and turned, to Teller. "It didn't matter. She was
angry
. I think she was shouting at the water. I heard her. She curses a lot."

In spite of herself, Finch laughed.

"She thinks I'm a child," he added, when Finch's laughter had dwindled. "But… she thought you were children as well. Not now. But then. When she first found you."

"Adam, I think that you have taxed yourself enough for one day. It is time that the guests left."

But he didn't want them to leave. Finch saw the sudden loneliness in his face, the sudden fear of isolation.

Teller saw it, too. He made no move to obey Levec, and Teller rarely antagonized anyone.

"She thought about you, I think," Adam told Teller. He smiled hesitantly when he realized that they had no intention of obeying Levec. "She came to us in the Lady's fire. She helped us save the Lady's waters from the Lord of Night."

They were all silent then.

"She rides a great horned beast; she walks beside a creature that even our stories don't mention. She argues with her—her servant. All the time."

Finch laughed again. "That would be Jay. I mean Jewel."

"She didn't have a great horned beast the last time I checked," Carver added.

This time, Ellerson chose to add his voice to the quiet discussion. "Where did you meet them?"

"Just outside of the Tor Leonne, during the Festival of the Moon."

Ellerson nodded grimly. "Then she made it that far South."

Adam frowned. "I think—I hope—she has made it farther. She was traveling with—with the Matriarch of Arkosa. But I'm forbidden to speak of where she's going."

"How did you arrive here?"

"I—" This time he turned to look at Levec.

Levec rolled his eyes. Nodded.

"I'm not certain. I heard the Serra Diora speak to me. I felt my sister's hand on my chest. And I felt Levec carry me from the cold into this place. But I didn't see what happened." Tears had started to run from his eyes, but he did not weep.

Angel started to ask questions; Teller took them and made them intelligible, cushioning the harsh, sharp words in translation. Adam answered them as clearly as he could, and Teller again conveyed the meaning of words to the least patient member of their den. While they spoke, Finch disentangled her fingers from her den-mate's sleeve, and quietly joined Teller.

He watched them speak to the boy, waiting quietly. There was energy, eagerness, anger, and desire in the men and women of House Terafin—who seemed, to Levec, to be little more than children, no matter how old they were— as they surrounded the young Annagarian.

He wondered who would be the first to break his edict. Not the pale-haired, sullen one; not the dark-haired man whose Torra came so easily. Not the young man who attempted to wedge humor between the seriousness of his words. The quiet man, perhaps. Or the girl.

He did not like the patriciate. In the city, only those with the weight of nobility behind them chose to wield their weight in the Houses of Healing. Or chose to try.

But these?

The streets that had birthed them were at the root of who they had become. And Daine, healer-born and trained, had somehow been absorbed by those roots.

Evayne
, he thought heavily.

His eyes wandered to the boy. For three days, that boy had lain abed weeping; had grabbed Levec's hands or arms if they came within reach. Were it not for his weakened state, Levec would have had trouble prying himself free. He had asked, over and over again, for his sister, or his aunt, or his cousin, his voice quailing with a piteous terror.

Not even Levec was entirely proof against it.

Do you know what this boy could be, Evayne?

Yes. I know it well. But I know what he must become, if he is to reach the potential you see.

I do not play games with the lives of my students.

Then do not take him as a student, Levec. If he is only healer here, it will be costly in ways you cannot conceive of.

He is part of the war. His part will not be clear until some years have passed
—
but if he is not prepared when the time comes
…

Adam was weeping again.

And this time, the young woman who seemed to speak for the den reached out and very gently wiped the tears from his face.

He grabbed her hand in his; from a distance, Levec could see how white his knuckles had become.

But she did not flinch, did not turn away. Did not disentangle herself.

Who is he, Evayne?

He is the brother of the last of the Arkosan Matriarchs.

Levec walked to where Finch now sat. "It appears that attentiveness is not taught within the great Houses. Or do you think that your House name will protect you?"

She looked up, startled, and then looked down at the hand that was now captive.

"Adam," he said, as gently as he possibly could.

Adam clung.

"Adam, you know why you must not do this."

He refused to look up; refused to meet Levec's eyes.

But Levec could see the change in his features, a slight widening and narrowing of eyes. Gods, the boy was talented.

He waited a moment longer, and then said, "I will not take her from you, Adam, for more than a few minutes.. I am a man of my word. But I need to speak with her."

Adam swallowed. With obvious effort, he let go; the struggle wasn't pretty in a boy of his age.

Finch drew her hand away, but only when she had retreated far enough from the bed that she could turn her back to the boy did she begin to try to massage blood back into her pale fingers.

"Healer Levec?"

"ATerafin. If it comforts you, I believe that Jewel ATerafin has been busy enough surviving that she could not wisely send messages back and forth with her domicis."

"I bet she hasn't even thought about it." She tried, and failed, to keep the bitterness out of the words.

"I would not know. She was holding the boy's body in her arms when I arrived. She was cut and bruised, her cheek was red with dried blood. I don't think she was even aware of her injuries—and no, before you panic, they were
not
life-threatening. At least not her life." He smiled at her expression before he continued.

"She thought he was dead, but she wouldn't let go of him." His face lost its harsh edges as he gazed into the distance of that memory. "She cannot return yet," he added quietly, "but I wished you to know that she is still alive, still fighting in her peculiar way."

"Thank you for that."

"Don't thank me."

Finch held her breath; she heard the give and take of the dialogue that otherwise occupied the room. "Why did you
really
send for us?"

"That boy has a raw power that I have never seen."

She turned to look at Adam, wan and forlorn on the bed, and raised a skeptic's brow. "That doesn't have much to do with us."

"No?" He looked at the hand she was still massaging.

She grimaced. "I wasn't thinking," she said lamely.

"What a surprise."

"What—what do you want from us?"

"I must ask a favor of you."

"Of us?"

"Yes. I realize that sounds surprising. But… I wish you to take the boy under your wing."

"What?"

"I have seen how Daine has fared in House Terafin, among your den."

"But—but—"

"But?"

"Jay decides who's in, and who's out."

"And that is your answer?"

"Wait—no." She lifted her hand, stared at it a moment. "No, it's not. Look—maybe you don't understand the position we're in. The House—it's mobilizing for—for—"

"War?"

Her feet suddenly became very interesting.

"I'm not a fool, ATerafin. The House has been mobilizing, as you call it, for some time, and at least one of its members was foolish enough to injure one of
mine
." And he looked up, past her face, to where Daine now stood. By Teller's side. "It is not spoken of, but it is acknowledged. The House will war when The Terafin dies."

"Yes. And that's exactly why we can't take someone in. Not now. It wouldn't be right. He's—he's just a boy."

"And you were just a girl, your Teller just a boy, when you were left to fend for yourselves in the hundred holdings."

"But here, he's safe." She watched as Teller bent over the bed, speaking slowly and softly, hovering just out of reach. "In House Terafin—"

"ATerafin."

She looked up and met his eyes. Before she could look away again, he caught her chin and held it firmly.

"I am willing to trust you with that boy. That should not come as a surprise; I believe that Jewel ATerafin was willing to trust you with the House."

"But—Healer Levec." She swallowed and then raised her chin out of the cup of his fingers, straightening her young shoulders. "People have already died. Some by poison, and some by steel. I'm sure we'll see magic before things are decided one way or the other."

"Yes."

"He's what—fourteen? Fifteen? He doesn't speak Weston, and I don't think he's ever lived in a city—any city— before."

"He hasn't."

"Any other House would be safer."

"It is precisely because House Terafin is not safe that I ask this favor."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to Understand," he said gently. The corners of his lips turned down in a frown. "But he needs to learn what you alone are capable of teaching him, and I believe that it is not only a worthwhile risk, but a necessary one. If you do not wish to do this, you have only to leave, and to leave him here. Walk away, Finch ATerafin. Don't look back."

She drew a breath. "It would be better for him."

"Would it? Decide, then."

She turned away from him and walked back to join her den. He watched.

He knew what her answer would be, for Adam caught her hands in his again, and she did not demur, did not draw back. She had, he thought, a foolishly soft heart for a woman upon whom so much rested.

And in spite of himself, he liked her. Liked her den. Even liked the short-tempered, unkempt woman who commanded their loyalty and their very tangled love.

Who is the boy, Evayne?

He is the future ruler of Tor Arkosa. And if he cannot learn to navigate the treacherous waters of politics, magery, and war, he will not survive to become the healer you envision.