The Shifter (9 page)

EIGHT

T
he League had never looked so
mean
.

Like an arched cat, hissing and spitting. A bold crab, claws at the ready. A mama croc, guarding a nest full of eggs. And I was the one about to poke it with a stick.

I tugged my damp scarf down over my hair and drifted into the people flowing toward League Circle in the softly falling rain.

The main door loomed ahead. Had it always been so high? So wide? It swallowed me with a half dozen others, and we milled in the antechamber. The usual shafts of late-afternoon sunshine from the dome’s windows were nothing more than pale gray light today, veiled by the rain. Bleak light. Bleak mood. Bleak chances.

But not as bleak as Tali’s if I couldn’t get her out.

I held my breath past the soldiers, but none looked at me. I waded through the battered and bruised people hoping for heals, not one of them aware that if the League let them in, it would cause some poor apprentice more pain than she could handle. If screaming the truth would’ve saved anyone, I might have hollered to the cliffs, but I’d had enough reminders lately of what desperate people were willing to do.

Slinking right, I headed down the hall toward Tali’s room. A dark-haired League guard leaned against the doorframe, looking bored. His interest kindled as I approached.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but this area is restricted.”

In the eternal pause between heartbeats, I mustered my best smile and most of the confidence I’d faked at Aylin’s. “I know, and thank you for keeping my room safe.” I almost winked, but it might have come off looking like a nervous tic.

“You live here?”

“Since last Moedsday.” I took a step to pass, but he moved and blocked my way. Did all guards have broad shoulders? Must be all that rapier thrusting. “Can I go now? I’m already late for rounds.”

“I don’t recognize you.”

“I’m new.” I tossed my head so the beaded braids slid over my shoulder.

He hesitated, his jaw working as if chewing it over. “Where’s your uniform?”

“In my room.” Oh, for the love of Saint Saea, all that work and I was going to fail
here?
Tali deserved better than a sister with a half-simmered plan.

“So you went out earlier?”

“Exactly.”

He smirked like he had me. “Then why didn’t I see you leave? I came on this morning—
early
, and I’ve been here all day.”

My mind flailed faster than a spooked chicken’s feet. “I wanted to watch the sun rise” wouldn’t work. Why would a girl be out before light? At least an apprentice girl—an ordinary girl would—

“Listen.” I stepped in close and glanced around as if looking for Elders. Which I was, but not for the reason I wanted him to think. “I didn’t come home last night,” I lied. “This boy I know lost his mother in the ferry accident and needed comforting.” All dressed up, I looked old enough to go sneaking off to meet a boy. I hoped.

He stared back for three agonizing heartbeats; then a sly smile cracked his face. He looked me up and down and nodded. “Be careful with that. The mentors’ll boot you if they catch you.”

“They won’t catch me.” Saints willing.

“Hurry up then.” He stepped aside, and I forced myself not to run all the way to Tali’s room.

I ducked inside and collapsed on her bed. The shakes started, and it took me a good five minutes to get my courage back. Should’ve taken less time with so many reminders of Tali all around me, but being in a room she might never see again scared me more than any guard I’d ever crossed.

Nerves finally steadied if not calmed, I stripped out of Aylin’s dress and into Tali’s white uniform. It was too short, and tight around the waist and hips, but the green vest hid it well enough. I folded Aylin’s things and hid them in a drawer in case anyone looked into the room.

I left, trying hard not to sneak, and strolled toward the treatment ward. After a few odd stares from various first and second cords, I picked up the pace. An apprentice late for rounds wouldn’t be strolling.

The general treatment ward looked just as I remembered as a child, when I’d helped Mama on her rounds. I hadn’t done much—held some towels or small bowls of warm water for cleaning up blood—but I’d felt important. It was the life I’d hoped to have, back before I discovered my dreams were hopeless. The room looked smaller now, maybe ’cause I was bigger. Beds were arranged in neat rows with gauzy curtains hung between them for privacy. Most of the folks who came here were mildly injured or sick, or couldn’t pay as much as a full healing required. The rich and the really hurt ones were taken to private rooms.

I turned and headed that way, sweat dampening the hairs along my neck. I hadn’t been in one of
those
rooms since Papa died, killed by one of the Duke’s soldiers a few months before the war ended. Mama had tried to save him, but by the time the other soldiers in his unit had gotten him to the League, he was gone. No one ever told us where Mama died; they just returned her in a box, like some unwanted gift. Baseeri men were running the League by then, helping to squash the last of our rebellion.

Closed doors lined a hall almost as intimidating as the Sanctuary. At the end, wide stairs spiraled up and into shadows. I grabbed the copper handrail and took a step closer to where I hoped Tali would be.

“You there!”

I froze, fingers tight against the cold metal, then took another step. Maybe he wasn’t talking to me.

“Apprentice! Get down here—you’re needed in the ward.”

I turned, mouth open, but couldn’t think of a single believable reason to refuse. A short, bald man with six gold cords on one shoulder and two silver ones on the other stared at me. A Heal Master.

“Now, girl.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We have injured waiting.”

Saints save me! I walked over, and he took me by the back of the neck. Not hard, but like someone used to herding disobedient apprentices around. He guided me back into the general treatment ward and stopped between rows of beds. Four beds had people on them, some sitting, some lying down, all injured.

“What’s the first step in determining an injury?” He spoke in a teacher’s voice, and probably wouldn’t take kindly to me answering wrong.

I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. “You, uh…” My hands hovered over the woman on the bed. Well-dressed despite the rips and bloodstains on her clothes.

The Heal Master’s toe started tapping.

“You put one hand on the head and one on the heart, to feel the extent of the injury.”

He nodded and the tapping stopped. “Go on.”

I glanced down at the patient. She was awake, and though her eyes were glassy and unfocused, she didn’t look too badly hurt. I placed my hands on her and sensed around inside, like Tali had taught me. “Bruised ribs and skull, no breaks.”

“Any bleeds?”

Bleeds? Tali’d never taught me how to feel for bleeds. “I, uh, can’t tell.”

“Did you pay
any
attention in class?”

He put his hands over mine. A faint tingle slid through me, passing into the woman underneath. The bruises became brighter, sharper in my mind. Then something else, a dark spark, like spots behind your lids after you stared at the sun too long.

“Do you see it? There, along the base of the cranium?”

I did. “Yes.”

His hands pulled away, and the spot dimmed. I reached for the spot again, and it blazed. A guilty giddiness bubbled in my chest. Tali learned things like this every day. Real healing.

“Are there any others?” The Heal Master sounded pleased, and I almost smiled.

“I don’t see any.”

“Then proceed.”

“What?”

His disappointed frown returned. “Heal the patient. Internal bleeds are closed same as external.”

He really wanted me to heal! I could run, but then I’d never get back in, never find Tali. He’d stared at my face long enough to know me if he saw me again. Since I had to pass right through his domain to get back to the stairs, he’d sure as sugar see me at least once more.

I moved my hands over her ribs and
drew
. Then to her head. Closed the small bleed at the base of her skull but left the bruising. The bleed would have killed her, but she could live with a headache for a few days.

“Done.” I pulled my hands away, my head and ribs throbbing a little.

He put his hands back, then frowned at me again. I cringed. “You missed one.”

“Sorry.” I took the bruise, accepted the shame. If I’d really been an apprentice, would he have kicked me out of the League for such a mistake? Probably not.

It didn’t matter. If I
had
belonged here, I wouldn’t have left the bruise in the first place. I’d have been eager to prove my worth, and to impress him I would have mentioned the knuckleburn I sensed starting around her hands and toes.

But I didn’t belong and never would. For the first time in my life, it didn’t hurt to say that. If I belonged, I’d be locked in a room somewhere with Tali and no one to help either of us.

“Now, what about this gentleman?” The Heal Master took my elbow and led me to the next bed. I didn’t need to touch the patient to see both arms were broken. I couldn’t help carry Tali with aching arms.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t?” His eyebrows arched higher than the windows. “Are you refusing to heal a patient?”

An apprentice at the next bed jerked up and stared at me, horror clear on his pockmarked face. He sure didn’t know what was going on here or he wouldn’t be so quick to judge.

“No, I…um…I…” Couldn’t stay there because I had to save my sister. Not something that would get me out of this or help Tali. “I don’t feel well.”

The apprentice glared, his spiky black hair puffed around him like a sooty dandelion. The Heal Master flicked his hands out as if he’d had enough of me. I could only hope.

“A Healer’s job is to heal, girl—otherwise you’re just a useless Taker, fit for nothing but filling some half-pure pynvium spoon with pain. I know it’s scary, and it hurts, but if you want to make your first cord, you’d better remember what we endure to help others. Or maybe you’re not strong enough to mend bone?” He said it like a challenge. I bet it worked on the boys every time, chased away their fear so they could do their jobs.

“I, uh…” Two Elders walked in, each scanning the room like soldiers on watch.

The Heal Master grabbed my hands. I gasped, and a cold tingle shivered all over my body. He harrumphed and let me go, but a flicker of appreciation flashed in his eyes. “You’re plenty strong. You could make a good life for yourself here if you wanted it.”

Words I’d wanted to hear my whole life, only now they had no value.

One of the Elders walked over, and my heart stuck in my throat. It was the same one I’d kicked when I was Merlaina. “Problems, Heal Master Ginkev?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” The Heal Master twitched and flashed an uncertain smile. “First-time jitters, I think.”

“She refused to heal the patient, Elder sir,” the apprentice said, butting his pointy Baseeri nose in where it didn’t belong.

“Refused?” The Elder glanced at me, then doubled back and stared. “What’s your name?”

“Tatsa.” It wasn’t really a name, but an old swear Grannyma used to use when we’d jump out at her from behind the furniture. Said it came over with
her
grannyma from the mountain folk.

He peered closer.

Saint Saea, please don’t let him recognize me.

“Refusing to heal a patient is grounds for expulsion,” he said at last.

“I, uh…” Still couldn’t figure out what to say. I had some pain now. I could hit them, run up the stairs, grab Tali, carry her out past guards and Elders and Heal Masters. Please, who was I kidding?

“Oh, I’m sure once she sees there’s nothing to fear, she’ll be fine.” The Heal Master patted my shoulder and tried to turn me away. What color had
his
hair been before it fell out? I’d bet anything it wasn’t black. “Don’t want to push her too fast.”

“No?”

The Heal Master hesitated. “No, not one to waste here.”

A smile slithered across the Elder’s face. “So she’s strong?”

Even my hair wanted to scream.

“She’s, um…” He looked at me and gulped. “She’s quite strong. But untrained,” he added quickly.

“Perhaps I’ve been too hasty,” the Elder oozed. “I’ll reconsider your expulsion if you help us with a high-priority heal. Refuse, and you’re expelled from the League. Out on the
street
.”

An effective threat, if I was really an apprentice. Even a first cord would say yes and be thankful for the second chance. A job, food, and a room were too hard to come by to throw away out of fear. Of course, a real apprentice wouldn’t know what that second chance really meant. I didn’t have much of a choice. Tali once said high-priority heals took place “upstairs,” and she’d rolled her eyes afterward, like mere apprentices weren’t good enough to go “upstairs.”

I guess
that
had changed.

Saying yes would get me upstairs, but if this heal was as bad as the little girl, it could fill me with so much pain I couldn’t help Tali. Saying no would get me thrown out, and there was no guarantee that I could get back in. My best chance to save her was to do it now, but it would be a
huge
risk.

The Elder flashed a cat’s grin. “Choose wisely.”

Two impossible words.

NINE

“A
re you a Healer or not?”

Is it worth the risk or not?

“I’m a Healer,” I said, not bothering to hide the tremor in it. Scared was good. Scared meant pliable, and Elders liked pliable.

“Excellent.” The Elder tapped his fingers against my back, nudging me in a direction I really didn’t want to go. “The Romanels will be so pleased.”

“But Elder Mancov, she’s needed here.”

The Elder narrowed his eyes at the Heal Master. “Surely you don’t think these broken bones and cuts take precedence over serious injury?”

“No, sir. We’re just so shorthanded, you know.” Again the false grin. “If you could send her back this time—quickly, when she’s done?”

“Of course.”

We walked between beds filled with hurt, past closed rooms holding anguish, up the stairs toward agony. Footsteps tapping away the seconds I had left before I couldn’t run, couldn’t escape anymore, and maybe even ended up like Tali.

We stopped at a door. From this side no one would ever guess what waited behind it.

I tensed, ready to bolt up the stairs.

The Elder opened the door and pushed it inward. Three people. A man, standing to the side, and two women, lying on beds shoved next to each other.

“You said one heal.” I winced. My mouth never knew when to stay closed.

“It is. Sisters. The one on the left was conscious when the brother brought them in. She refused to let go of the other sister, even though we can’t help her.”

“Is she dead?” She didn’t look it. Pale, but not the waxy sheen of the newly dead.

“So close it doesn’t matter. Brain was crushed. Nothing we can do.”

A gift,
if
I was strong enough to take it. I glanced up the stairs. Tali was up there, somewhere, and I needed a way in. What better way than with a personal escort? I looked back at the sisters, clinging to each other even in that half step from death. Her sister could save mine.

I walked in, heart pounding, skin sweating, bones trembling.
Be strong for Tali
. It almost sounded like Mama’s voice, but I knew better. Mama would have told me to run. Save the child she could and grieve for the one lost. Grannyma would have said to grab a chair and whack someone over the head—but she’d have said it with a proverb so it wouldn’t sound so mean. Papa would have been here himself, and folks would have listened to him. He had
very
broad shoulders. I had to be all three at once.

The brother stepped forward with that same hopeful, desperate expression I’d come to resent over the last few days. “Can you save her? Can you?”

“I can.”

The Elder’s eyes widened; then he smiled softly, soothingly. A smile for the brother, not for me. I was nothing but walking pynvium to him. “Tatsa here is one of our finest. She’ll do her best, but remember, not every injury can be healed.”

“Please save her. Please?”

I blocked out his fear, his hope. I had enough of my own.

The Elder watched with waiting eyes as I placed one hand on the head and one on the heart, like any apprentice would do. I cringed a bit, and not just for show. Multiple broken bones, crushed in some places. Several bleeds, now that I knew how to sense them. Severe injuries, even worse than those of the little girl I’d saved mere hours ago.

I didn’t need to check the dying sister. From here, I could see the shattered dent in her head, and the grayish-pink ooze seeping out. Amazing she wasn’t dead yet. Or maybe just a mercy.

Both Elder and brother leaned forward as if expecting me to speak.

“It’s bad, but I think I can heal her.”

The brother started weeping; the choppy, gaspy kind where relief and hope are so great they trample over the fear. The Elder tried to hide his grin, but I could see it there at the corners of his thin mouth.
They must be paying a fortune for this.
He turned to the brother and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

While his back was turned, I slipped a hand under the almost-dead sister’s shirt and pressed my fingers tight against her cooling skin where the Elder couldn’t see it. The other I kept on the living sister’s heart. I had to shift her pain into the dying sister fast, before he turned around again. A deep breath, a quick prayer, and I
drew
.

Hot pain and blinding agony raced into me. I funneled it through a small corridor I fought to maintain between sisters—a human sluiceway of hurt. Whimpers bubbled up, and I let them out as screams. No children to scare here, and the Elder expected me to scream.

One sister saved. One sister dead. I needed a better outcome for Tali.

Still screaming, I dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. Forced my fingers into claws. Made my legs twitch. Put on a good show, like the Elder expected.

“Saints have mercy!” the brother cried in horror. For that, I was glad I healed his surviving sister.

“Hu…hurts…help…me…,” I whimpered, moaned, writhed. How much was too much?

“No, no, this is normal on a heal of this magnitude,” the Elder lied, hands on the brother’s shoulders. Holding him back? He seemed like the kind of man who would run to my aid. “She’ll be fine.”

“She doesn’t look fine!”

I screamed again for emphasis.

The door opened, and two boys ran in with a stretcher. Neither had gold cords dangling from his shoulders, but both had dark, glossy black hair. As did the Elder. And the guard outside the dorms, I realized with a chill. There were all Baseeri. Where were the Geveg Healers and guards?

The guards lifted me with none of the care a trained Healer would have had, and plopped me on the stretcher. I moaned again and silently urged them to hurry.

“These gentlemen will take her where she can release the injuries into the pynvium.”

“Are you sure she’ll be okay?”

“Good as new. Ah look, your sister is waking up….” His words faded as the hired thugs bounced me up the stairs. I moaned while they grunted and panted, but hope raced through me. Wherever they were taking me, it was high, close to the top of the League, maybe even near the dome.

Please, Saint Saea, let them take me right to Tali.

“Wonder how much that one paid,” the boy at my feet asked.

“I heard a thousand oppas.”

For a heartbeat, I forgot to moan.
One thousand?!

“We should demand a bonus.”

“And lose this job? Not me. I like easy work for high pay.”

“Bet we could get a lot more if we threatened to talk.”

A dry laugh. “You think anyone cares what happens to these Takers? Nothing but war orphans. Bunch of useless ’Vegs.”

I cared. If only I’d kept some of the pain. I would have made these two respect what an orphaned Taker could do, and fast. Maybe I’d even give them Tali’s pain, see how much they cared when they were lying on the floor screaming, suffering like the Luminary was making Tali and the others suffer.

We stopped and a third boy spoke. “Another one? Didn’t think they had any left.”

“Scraping the bottom of the barrel now.” The one at my feet laughed. I clenched my fists tighter. No time to teach lessons—Tali could be on the other side of that door.

“Bring her in.”

The room smelled of urine and damp face powder. No whiff of Tali’s lake violets and ginger. Was she here? She
had
to be here. My carriers dumped me on a squeaky cot and walked away, thumping across a hard floor.

“Hey, Kione, want to play cards later? There’s a spot open.”

“Um, sure. I’m through here at sunset.”

“See you in a few hours then.”

A soft thud and silence. No, not silence. Just a hum so low that it mimicked silence. Moaning, quiet sobs, sniffles.

I opened my eyes. Blond hair stuck out above the blanket in the cot on my right. Tali? I squinted. No, not her. I scanned the other nearby cots for blond hair, but Tali wasn’t in any of those either. Where was she? Soft light burned in lamps widely spaced along the walls, making it hard to pick out blond hair in the cots. No windows either, and only one door. But it had beds—lots and lots of beds.

Saints be merciful.

Twenty, maybe thirty beds were laid out in neat rows like a wartime triage ward. Only a few were empty. No wonder I’d seen hardly any apprentices downstairs. There couldn’t be that many left. How could I find Tali when I couldn’t see the faces across the room?

Footsteps echoed to my right, soft but quick. I closed my eyes again. Someone draped a blanket over me and tucked it under my chin. Snatching the blanket and tackling this person flashed across my mind, but who knew how many were in the room.

“Easy now,” a girl said softly. “I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon. The Luminary will get more pynvium and take all the pain away. He promised.” She sounded young, maybe one of the low cords. Gentle fingers stroked my brow. “You hang in there, you hear?”

When the girl’s footsteps faded, I opened my eyes again and searched the beds farther away for Tali. Five blond heads had their faces turned away; any of them could be her. Several more on the far side of the room also looked blond, but in the dim light, I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t see anything from this stupid cot. If Gentle Fingers would go pee or something, then I could get up and do a real search.

A sharp gasp split the quiet, followed by low moaning. Footsteps tapped across the room.

“There there, go back to sleep. It’s easier if you stay asleep.”

Hot anger flashed though me. How could the Luminary do this to them? It was worse than anything the Duke had done in the war. The League was supposed to heal folks, not hold them in agony. Some of these people were children! They trusted the Elders, trusted the Luminary to take care of them when no one else did, even if he
was
just another Baseeri appointed by the Duke. They didn’t deserve this. Tali sure as spit didn’t.

The door opened again. My stomach and fists clenched. Another poor apprentice threatened into service?

“Hey, Lanelle.” I recognized the door guard’s voice. “Are you allowed breaks?”

She giggled. Didn’t any of this mean anything to her? Didn’t it make her mad enough to throw bedpans at the Elders?

“I get meal breaks.”

“Can you get one now? The sun’s come out and there are double rainbows over the docks. Come see.”

My breath caught.
Yes! Go run off to flirt with your heartless boy.

“I can’t. They’re my responsibility.”

“You can take fifteen minutes, can’t you? Might do you some good to see something pretty for a while. I know it would help
me
.”

“I don’t know.”

“No one will see you. I promise.”

“Well, okay, but only for a teeny weeny while. I don’t want to leave them alone too long.”

The door thudded shut. I leaped from the cot and ran for the nearest blond head. Not Tali. I darted for the next…. Still not her. Three cots up…. Not Tali, but a boy with long hair. Two rows over, a girl I recognized, though I didn’t know her name. Where
was
she?

I ran to the far wall where the shadows were the darkest. A girl’s familiar nose caught my eye, but as I dropped to the girl’s side, her hair was red, not blond. Hair! I glanced around the room. Not a single head of hair was Baseeri black. No wonder I hadn’t seen any Geveg Healers. Even those waiting for healing downstairs had been dark-haired. Of course. The Luminary
would
use Geveg lives to save Baseeri ones. He was the Duke’s man to his rotted core.

Anger heated my cheeks. Tali had to be here. I’d check every bed twice if I had to.

Another blond head in the far corner, top of the row. I knelt, found a face I knew as well as my own.

“Tali!” I cupped her cheek. She trembled, hands clenched and arms pulled close to her chest.

“Nya?” Her eyes fluttered open, and the pain shone right out of them like beams of dark light. Almost as dark as the circles under her eyes and the hollows in her cheeks.

“I’m here. I’ll get you out.” I moved a hand over her heart.

“No!” she cried. I stopped as she started coughing, wincing with every hack.

“Tali, I’ll take half, and we’ll sneak out of here.”

“You can’t…. Too much.”

“No, it’s not. We can do this together.”

“Look…for yourself.”

I felt my way in, to the agony, the crushed organs and broken bones she’d healed, the bleeds and the bruises and the horror.

“It’s too much.” I wanted to check again, but I knew. I’d felt it, same as Tali knew and felt it. I couldn’t take half. A quarter, maybe, but it wouldn’t be enough to let her sit up, let alone walk out. Even if I tried to take a little, I wouldn’t be able to stop the pain from pouring into me, just as it had with the little girl.

I wiped the sweat from her brow, struggled not to hug her tight. She couldn’t handle the pressure on her ravaged body.

“Oh, Tali.”

“Run, Nya.”

“Not without you.”

“You…can’t help…me.”

“Yes, I can. All I need to do is…I have to find…” What? There had to be a way. “Pynvium! I need pynvium.”

“None…left.”

“Not here, but there has to be more somewhere.” Enchanter Zertanik’s words slithered back into my ears.
Oh, I’m certain you will, my dear. Not a doubt in my mind.
Saints, he knew they were doing this. That filthy vulture
knew! Just a few scraps really
…. He’d dangled the pynvium carrot right in my face.

Was that why Jeatar had been at the League yesterday morning? Gathering information? Making deals? He
was
the one who’d told Zertanik about me. He’d acted like he wanted to help me, but I’d bet that wasn’t what he’d whispered in Zertanik’s ear. Probably a lot closer to “Her sister is one of them, sir. We could use that to control her, make her do what we want and make so much money.”

And he’d been right. I was hungry enough to grab that carrot.

“Tali, I think I know where I can get some pynvium.” If people were really paying a thousand oppas for a heal, they’d probably pay just as much for a shift. Maybe more. I could trade shifting for whatever pynvium he had left.