10. Irina

Chapter ten

Irina

M aster Rist returned to his hectic rotation within days of a near-fatal blow. Between my Healing and Kels?'s own contribution, the Master claimed to feel better—and younger—than he had in years. I tried stalling any discussion of his Healing, magic, or anything else out of the ordinary, but my Master's natural curiosity wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than a detailed, logical explanation.

Magic. How logical, I thought as I sat with my head bowed and hands folded before Rist. Kels? remained by my side to answer any questions he might ask that I couldn't answer. I found the Mage's presence comforting.

"You're telling me you used magic to Heal my wounds, the same wounds I can see only a trace of, but, by all accounts, were fatal?"

I nodded, but couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. "Yes, Master. I . . . didn't know what I was doing. I just . . . it just . . ."

I was sure he'd accuse me of cheating, not using proper medicine or technique or something . He was always so strict about how to treat patients, and I threw all that into the storm when I used a foreign force I'd never experienced as my surgical instrument.

If he got angry, he might take my apprenticeship away and send me back to my parents. How could I face them after such a failure? They were so proud when I entered the Medica. Would they still have pride in the same daughter who left in shame?

Still, this was Master Rist's life at stake. I replayed that day a hundred times—no, a thousand times—and still would do it all over again. I would have moved mountains to save him. Rist was more than a mentor or teacher. In the four years I'd lived under his roof, the man had become a second father. The thought of losing him was more than my heart could bear.

As a tear escaped, I dared a look up.

I don't think he could have smiled any wider—and a tear was escaping his eye, too. He leaned forward and took my trembling hand in both of his.

"Irina, do you realize how special this is? How rare?"

I frowned so hard my brow ached.

Rist loosed a hearty laugh.

"Child, there hasn't been a Healer born with magic in hundreds of years. The Mages today tend toward other pursuits." He shot Kels? a glare, then turned back to me. "You have the power to do things I will never be able to do, Heal those beyond the aid of any physiker. With your hunger for knowledge, combined with magic, you could help advance our work more than anyone in living memory."

I sucked in a breath. "So . . . you're not angry?"

He laughed again. "No, Irina, I'm not angry. I'm proud. If Mage Kels? can help you learn to use this gift of the Spirits, I'm confident you will do great things."

Kels? spoke for the first time since we sat. "You will need to continue your apprenticeship. To Heal complex injury or illness, you will need to understand the body and how it functions. Without a solid foundation of anatomy, you never could have healed Master Rist. Remember the image that formed in your mind?"

I nodded.

"You guided magic to mend what was broken. To do that, you first must know what things should look like, how they should work. I will stay for a few weeks to help you learn the basics, but you need to continue the Master's work, too, likely for several more years." She looked up at Rist. "If that is all right with you, Master Rist."

He beamed, then schooled his expression. "Mage Kels?'s right. There's still much for you to learn. We can't have a half-trained magical Healer roaming around out there. Folks will end up with feet sprouting out of their ears."

Despite everything, I laughed.

A month passed quickly.

Each day, I rose early, studied with my fellow apprentices, worked a full shift with Master Rist and his patients, then spent hours practicing with Kels?. I had never felt more alive, more filled with excitement and purpose.

The first time I called my Light and my palms glowed with Healing magic, I nearly fell backward. Then I jumped up and ran circles around the study, waving my glowing palms in the air.

Kels? laughed until she complained her side hurt.

At Kels?'s suggestion, we waited to tell my parents about my magic until the third week. In the immediate aftermath of Healing Rist, I'd been too frightened, too unsure, to admit anything to anyone. Then, after meeting Kels? and beginning to understand the implications of having magic, a fresh fear formed in my mind. My parents were wonderful physikers, dedicated to the healing arts for much of their lives. How would they react to their daughter possessing magic, being a Mage ?

Would it change how they saw me? Would they think of me as one of the self-absorbed, elite men and women who rarely bothered to grace normal folk with their presence, much less help those in need? Would they be ashamed of who I was becoming? Of what I had become?

I dreamed the look in Father's eyes, the disappointment, the loss. I felt him tremble and watched as he turned his back, never to look on me again. My heart wrenched at visions of Mother's tears and the echo of her cries.

Kels? would have encouraged me, told me everything would be all right, but I was afraid to even approach her with something so trivial. We were meddling with powers beyond nations. The last thing she wanted to hear was a young girl's fears over her mortal parents. I knew I was being stubborn. Kels? had been nothing but kind—loving, even. Still, courage fled each time I tried to ask her advice.

I had risked everything to save my adopted father. Now, it felt like I was risking everything not to lose my real one.

With no better plan, I determined to have better control of my Light before telling them anything. I knew the moment they learned I had power, they would beg for a demonstration. I knew Father, with his inquisitive nature, could never let a delicious curiosity go unexplored, especially when it involved his daughter.

In an ironic twist of fate—or a result of poor planning or the Spirits having a sense of humor about such things—I never told my parents I had magic. Roughly two months after Kels?'s first visit, I was at home for a weekend visit. Mother and I were chatting in the kitchen when Father burst into the house. He'd been tending the horses and managed to slice his palm open on one tool or another. Blood wept onto the kitchen floor as he stepped forward.

Without thinking, I reached out, and Light flowed freely.

Father's eyes were wide as saucers. Mother fell back into her chair. Neither could speak for the longest moment of my life.

"Um, Father, I think you should sit down. I need to tell you both something."

Father hugged me so long I thought he might never let me go.

Mother wept until Father insisted on seeing more of the "light show," as he called it.

I felt silly afterward, worrying over my parents' reactions, fearing their judgement or scorn or whatever. They loved me. I knew that before, and I knew it even more so afterward. Still, the relief I felt after sharing the weight of that knowledge was a brilliant light all its own.

By the third month, I was able to call my Light at will and perform Healings of minor injuries and illnesses inside the body as easily as writing my name on parchment. Master Rist marveled, and Kels? said she was astonished by my rapid progress. She said it often took others many months, even years, to approach my level of control and skill.

Kels? speculated that my singular focus on Healing offered more rapid advancement than those who attempted to delve into many aspects of their magical abilities. I wore blinders, insisting every waking moment be devoted to furtherance of my Healing knowledge and skill. I never even thought to ask how to perform simple magics, such as calling flame or Traveling. Healing was my life; it was my first true love.