20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

The process wasn't easy after Xian came clean with Rafael, but it was less difficult than it had been. It helped to see his lover so clearly affected by the knife, to see the agony of need drain away under the smooth, steady draw of the blade. It hurt Xian, Rafael could see that, but the pain was also so clearly preferable to what he had been enduring before that Rafael could face his daily task with equanimity.

Despite their care, or perhaps in some ways because of it, Xian began sinking into the withdrawal at a faster rate. It took longer to gentle him out of his constant shaking, and longer for him to respond to their questions. The few times the knife wasn't enough to stop the shaking, Rafael used the silver needles in his lover's flesh. The skin turned black where they were inserted and the punctures wept what looked like tar, but they brought the magic to the fore and gave Xian a moment of respite, despite how they had to burn inside him.

Nailah kept herself and Rafael busy, almost too busy for him to worry. She had patients coming at all hours looking for treatment of a variety of aches and pains and illnesses. Occasionally she was called away to a patient's home to treat them, and she always immediately appropriated Sled for the task. Rafael didn't really mind. He had given the care of the animal over to Malcolm, who despite his inability to speak without making everything sound like a question wasn't all that shy, and had plenty he wanted to ask Rafael about whenever a moment presented itself.

"You've been to the great city of Clare?" he said one afternoon as they were mucking out the stalls. The day was warmer than usual and the snow had turned to slush on the ground.

"I came from there," Rafael replied.

"I hear it's the most fantastic place in the world. I hear you can find anything there, or at least you could before it fell down. Is it true?"

"Where did you hear about that?"

"The peddlers bring news through, even this far into the Sisters. They say it's a ruin now! They say ten thousand souls died in a single night! They say the High Ones fought among themselves and set fire to the entire city with their magic. They say—"

"Don't believe everything you hear," Rafael said, a trifle too harshly because Malcolm started and pulled away from him, his face taking on a half-scared and half-apologetic expression it was clearly accustomed to. Rafael didn't feel sorry enough about it to soothe him, and they worked in silence until the barn was clean. It was only as he was preparing to enter the house that Malcolm spoke again.

"The man who arrived with you? Is he…well?"

Rafael froze for a moment, then forced a shrug. "He's getting there."

"Is he a—a High One?"

Rafael didn't say anything, just stared at Malcolm, who started to squirm under the scrutiny but went on, "Only I know that Mistress Nailah was, everyone knows even though they don't say. Her husband was as well, he was Gran's great-great-granduncle and even though he didn't live for long once they got here, Gran always said he was family and that made Mistress Nailah family, and none of us would ever tell, you know, not like they have in those other places."

Other places. Places like Byerton and Carlisle and a dozen other small towns along the coast and farther inland, places where the crippled aristocracy of Clare had fled to and tried to dominate with all the desperate strength and ruthlessness of the dying. According to rumor whole towns had been destroyed, their populaces slaughtered for reasons ranging from their disobedience to a desire to invoke terror.

Such stories were probably exaggerated, but Rafael knew that much of it was true. It was the kind of thing that Myrtea would do. Myrtea… She still haunted his dreams at night, now more than ever since he couldn't rely on Xian to soothe him. He hoped she was dead, prayed she was dead, but there was no way to know. And if she wasn't…

"I'm sure Mistress Nailah will save him," Malcolm said softly, breaking Rafael's uncomfortable reverie. "She's the best healer there is. She came from Clare when Gran was a girl, and she brought magic with her."

"Skill is even more powerful than magic," Rafael replied, "and Nailah is highly skilled."

When he mentioned her supposed supernatural abilities to Nailah later that evening, she scoffed. "Only the young and gullible believe in that sort of power. Because it's beyond their breadth of knowledge, it must be magical. Most of what went on in Clare was purely human, even among High Ones. Our wizards were mystics to start with, and learning to manipulate the magic in Erran's blood was a natural step for them. For the rest of us, the gifts of the blood never went further than enhanced speed and strength. For me it never even went that far. I was satisfied with youth and beauty for many years."

"Why did you decide to leave?" Rafael asked.

"Heran decided," she replied, her voice a little softer now. "He wasn't one of our tribe originally. He was more than three centuries younger than me, in fact. He arrived in Clare and he was very impressive, for a normal human. A great orator and statesman. I convinced him to marry me and to ascend, but he left family in these mountains. Heran never felt right about leaving them behind, and when the source first began to show signs of failure—gods, it was nearly a century before your time—he was one of the first of us to advocate renouncing Erran's blood and leaving the city." She grimaced. "It took him another fifty years to convince me to do it, though. We left with Xian, but I always knew that my brother wasn't going to stay with us, not until he found what he was looking for.

"It upset me at the time, but after the change I understood how hard this would be alone. How unbearable. I had my husband and he had me, and after Xian left we were still together, and had each other to rely on." She paused, then said, "He died a short while after that, left me alone. And now here I still am, fifty years on, lasting long enough for my fool of a brother to finally return." Nailah shook her head.

"I'm sorry," Rafael offered gently.

"It's long past now," she sighed. "More of a cautionary tale than anything, I suppose. You never know how long you'll have the ones you love." Rafael said nothing, just handed her the mortar when she motioned for it. They worked silently for the rest of the afternoon.