Touch of Iron (The Living Blade #1) (21 page)

His mouth was dry.

“I’ve been to every temple and shrine as part of my pilgrimage,” he said, his voice raspier with the heaviness of emotion. “It was…before your time here.”

“It was what inspired you to lead the simple life of groundskeeper, I suppose, because that was what you were when I first came here. Some things
do
change.”

They shared a long look.

“These pilgrims who visited you—they were young girls,” he said.

“Beautiful young girls.”

“Each carrying a golden dagger, I guess.”

“Gold ever was Shinar’s most beloved metal, as it so perfectly reflects the face of his sun.”

“What was the message?”

“That your quest will be successful. Bashan will find the Blade,” Cumi said with a gleam in her blue eyes. “And that once more the world is about to change because of that mythical sword.”

N
ora woke and pushed her
legs over the edge of the bed. She had slept straight for three days, only dragging her heavy body from the bed to drink, eat, and avoid soiling herself. She felt a pang of guilt whenever she woke and saw sunlight peeking in through the small window, but her limbs just wouldn’t move. Lying in a proper bed felt so good. It even relaxed the muscles in her back she hadn’t known were tense and sore.

She looked around, her bare feet on the wolf’s pelt that had traveled with her all the way from home. Her room was shaped like a slice of cake and had a bed and a trunk in the widest part and a small wash table by the door with a fresh bowl and jug of water every day. Food appeared by her bedside as if by magic while she slept—though if it were magic, it didn’t last to keep the food warm until she woke. No matter. The bowls of stew with hunks of fresh bread to dunk in it tasted like heaven, even lukewarm or cold. But now there was no bowl. It must be between mealtimes, then. Listening to the noises of the temple around her didn’t reveal much, either. A quiet lull lay beyond the thick wooden door. She checked the window, but the day was overcast so it could just as well be late morning or late afternoon. Nora stretched.

When was the last time she had woken and not had to immediately do something? Like walk for miles for the rest of the day, defend herself from bears, or ward off killers and rapists? But even before, there was always the charcoal that needed tending, the goat that needed feeding, the garden that needed care, the stomachs that needed to be filled. And now? What was she supposed to do here? Now there was nothing but bare feet tickled by the wolf’s pelt.

On the bright side, she was finally clean. There were clean clothes in the trunk, clean sheets on the bed with a mattress of crackling, rustling hay. And as she sat on the edge of her bed, she saw someone had scrubbed and polished her boots to a shine, cobbled them new, and put them neatly under the wash table.

The boots did it. The sight of them choked her up. Here she was in this safe, clean place, with her brother and people who were so considerate they took care of her smelly old traveling boots while she slept. Her lower lip trembled slightly, and then suddenly the realization she was safe came crashing down, inundating her with tears. She had functioned for so long now being driven by survival, carrying on automatically. And here she was blubbering, wallowing in self-pity and relief with rib-hitching sobs. It was pretty pathetic. But she couldn’t stop it and quickly gave up trying.

She was still breathing in shuddering gasps when a rapid staccato of footsteps announced someone approaching her door. She hastily threw the blanket around her shoulders and cuffed her wet eyes with it, taking one last deep breath before the door opened. Master Cumi poked her head into the room.

“Sleep well?” she asked, stepping inside, her long robes swishing as she closed the door. She stepped up and bent double to see into Nora’s eyes. The elderly woman’s eyes were a dark blue today and wrinkled at the edges from smiling.

“I came to check on you. But I can leave if you need to be alone for a while.”

Nora shook her head as a treacherous tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’m fine, really I am,” she sniffed. “I just can’t stop crying. It’s so stupid.”

Master Cumi sat down next to her on the bed. She wrapped her arm around Nora’s shoulders and just sat there, holding her, the thin silver bands around her wrists jingling with Nora’s every sob.

“It’s all right,” she whispered into Nora’s ear. “Salt water always heals. You just let it all out. Personally, I believe it has something to do with the glands balancing out, you know? Discharging all the pent-up stress.”

“Stress crying?” Nora managed a watery laugh.

Master Cumi shrugged.

“Maybe because for the first time in a long time you
can
cry.”

Nora’s heart sank.

“Diaz told you everything?”

“
Master
Diaz? Yes. Of course.”

“Oh.” Nora wiped the wet corner of the blanket across her face again. She looked about the tiny room, then at the woman next to her, eyebrows raised high. “Oh. Well. Did he tell you how stubborn, reckless, and dumb I am? I think those were his exact words.”

Master Cumi laughed.

“To you he said that, maybe. To me he said he’s never seen anyone with such a natural talent going to waste. That you were fast, fearless to the point of being reckless, and very talented with a knife. Or two.” She winked. “He also told me to work my best charms on you to make you become a pilgrim.”

Nora blinked. “No, he didn’t.”

“No, but it’s what he meant.” Master Cumi stared at the closed wooden door, focusing inward for a moment. She turned her attention back to Nora. “I need you to strip.”

“What?” Nora laughed nervously, leaning back.

“I’ve had a look at your shoulder while you were sleeping, but I’d rather heal you properly when you’re awake.”

Nora shook off her blanket and pulled the neckline of her loose cotton shirt down over her shoulder, wincing as she threaded her arm through the opening. The scar was still an angry red line on her pale skin, dotted red on either side where the stitches had held the flesh together. Master Cumi knelt before her on the wolf’s pelt and pinched and poked and prodded with nimble fingers before leaning back. “Hmm,” she said.

“What?” Nora wanted to know.

“You were lucky,” Master Cumi said, poking Nora again, this time under her collarbone. “There’s a vein just here that goes from the heart to the arm. If that had been pierced, you wouldn’t be here anymore.”

Nora pressed a hand to the spot.

“It still hurts when you move your arm?” Master Cumi asked next.

She had Nora lift up her right arm over her head—she couldn’t—to her side, stretching and flexing her muscles. Finally Master Cumi tilted her own head to the side. Her eyes were slits, but her finger traced lines on Nora’s shoulder.

“I could heal the muscles beneath the skin. You could move your arm properly again, without the pain.”

“Do it.” Nora’s answer came like a shot.

Master Cumi looked up.

“It’ll feel…strange, though.”

“I’ve been walking the Plains with a half-wight the last few weeks. A mountain bear nearly chewed off my face. Occult death pits everywhere. Define strange.”

“Strange as in not the way other healers would heal you.”

“That sounds…intriguing.”

“Then watch.”

Master Cumi rose to her feet. She stretched out her hand to the small table next to the door. The water in the jug rose to meet the elegant flicks of her wrist. It flowed through the air in a tear-shaped drop and twisted itself around Cumi’s forearm like a snake, writhing up and down, across her shoulders and back again.

Nora snapped to attention.

Don’t lose it! This is a test,
she thought.
It’s just a test. And you asked for it.

So instead of scrambling away in sheer panic at the
fucking blood witch
in her room, she stared at Master Cumi watching her, twirling the ball of water expectantly. And she remained as still as she could.

Talitha Cumi was a blood witch! A blood witch from across the Great Divide, that ocean of water between the ports of the northern coast and the Blessed Isle of Nessa. Nora had heard tales of the women of Nessa, tales she would never have believed if her eyes weren’t seeing what they were now.
I don’t believe in magic
. How stupid that sounded right now. Owen had told her stories of the goddess Neeze holding court in Nessa by the island’s tidal pools, half woman, half fish. And the mortal children of the goddess sat on the throne, the blood witches of the ancient wars, mighty sorceresses with the power to influence their enemy’s very body by calling to their blood. Neeze dwelt in all water. Water of life. The blood of all living things. Even in Nora’s veins. “
She’s a very talented healer
,” Diaz had said. “
A capable leader
,” he had said.
Yeah, well, he forgot to mention that his friend could turn people into living, breathing puppets shackled to her every whim, didn’t he?
Nora thought.

Master Cumi made the water dance in the air between her hands. She tutted.

“I see your face,” she said. “You need to learn to control it better.”

“Funny. Control was the very word I was just thinking of.” Nora licked her lips.

“Please, do tell.” Master Cumi let the ball of water pass before Nora. “I’d love to hear what exactly you were thinking. Fear is the most common reaction, you know. Followed by disgust and then distrust.”

“I know. And I’m not afraid,” Nora lied.

“Very good, my dear. I nearly believed you. Shall I heal you now, or would you prefer another bandage with some ointment?”

Not a drop spilled on the floor. How did she do it? Magic, right. But
how
did she do the magic?

“You’ll heal me with the water?”

“The human body is mostly water. We are of water, born from water, made of water. It runs through our veins, courses through our hearts, and touches our minds.”

“That’s a yes, then.” Nora sniffed. “So can just anyone learn how to…heal the way you do? Or is it a special gift?”

Cumi smiled and beckoned the water back to her fingertips.

“I can’t say for sure. I know how I do it, but maybe it would be different for you. Water is a part of all of us. So maybe everyone could learn the push and pull of water calling, though not everyone does. Why not?”

“Because it’s magic?”

“Many things seem magical if you don’t know how to do them. Even simple things. How does the farmer cultivate his vines to produce wine? I don’t know. Magic. How does the cook makes a meal that, once you taste it, you never forget it for the rest of your life? Again, that must be magic. How does a charcoaler make charcoal? Pure alchemy, if you ask me, for I have absolutely no idea. The truth is, Noraya Smith, if no one believed these things were possible, no one would reach out to attain them but those who believe they are chosen to.”

“We’re still talking about water magic and not about a certain quest certain people are on to find a certain mythical object, right?”

The water encased Master Cumi’s hand and became like ice, a white and blue gleam with a sharp edge.

“Don’t worry.” Master Cumi bent and took Nora’s arm. Her eyes sparkled blue. “Afterward you’ll feel a lot better, I promise.”

After? Great. That was very reassuring. Nora gritted her teeth. It was a test, right?

“Do it.”

Cumi ran her fingers over Nora’s shoulder. They were so cold their touch felt like a burn.

“Relax, the cold numbs your skin,” Cumi said. “Watch how to do this.”

Nora looked down at her naked shoulder. The blue glow left Cumi’s fingertips and danced over Nora’s skin in a weaving motion. It tickled beneath the blue, but Nora dared not scratch nor touch the magic. She swallowed hard. Cumi’s fingers were poised above the scar now. She looked up to make sure Nora was following her every move, her hungry eyes reflecting the eerie light from her hand. Her fingertips pushed slowly into Nora’s shoulder. A strangled gasp escaped Nora’s throat. Her eyes went wide as she saw the fingers pass through the flesh, feeling very much like the arrow penetrating the same spot, only slower. Much slower. A dull expanding throb stretched the tissue, which was unaccustomed to invasion. The white heat of the arrow piercing was missing, though. There was only cold.

Gradually the glow subsided and Master Cumi smiled. Her hands withdrew and dropped to her sides, where she wiped them clean with the hem of her robe. She pulled Nora’s shirt over the shoulder and then patted her twice. It was over. The skin around her shoulder prickled like Nora’s legs had after she’d stepped out of the river, waking up as the blood coursed hot underneath the chill.

“And?” Cumi rubbed her fingers against each other. “How did I do it?”

“I—I have no idea.”

“Try lifting your arm over your head.”

Nora did so and her shoulder moved smoothly. There was no pain, no daggerfall of hurt after a certain point. She moved it to and fro easily. Wide-eyed, she looked up at Master Cumi’s mischievous smile.

“Just like magic.” Cumi’s eyes twinkled over her steepled fingers.