Happy. It required a lot of effort to convince it to blow. I doubt I can do it again.”
Kade practically dragged me to the healer’s house. We met Zitora on the way and she supported his decision to take me there, claiming her healing powers could only do so much.
The tall healer led us to a room which contained the equipment needed to tend to the sick—a bed and a table loaded with supplies. After I lay on the bed, Zitora peppered me with questions, which distracted me from the healer’s ministrations. I had thought it hurt before he cleaned the cuts, but the wounds screamed with a new level of pain as the sharp sting of alcohol inflamed them.
I answered Zitora as best I could. I faded in and out of consciousness as the healer and Zitora worked on my injuries.
I woke. Lanterns blazed in the room and shadows waltzed along the stone walls. Worried I had wasted time, I sat up too fast and had to wait until the dizziness passed. Once the room stopped spinning, I found a clean set of my own clothes folded at the foot of the bed.
The cuts on my arms and legs throbbed. The injuries looked about two days old with ugly scabs forming, but they remained tender to the touch.
My abused muscles protested each movement as I dressed. I considered the discarded pile of bloodstained and tattered clothing. They were too ruined for even the Keep’s talented seamstress, so I left them there. I would have to order more of the long-sleeved tunics and linen pants that I preferred to wear. Good thing I had left my cloak with the horses.
Zitora and Kade waited in the front room of the house. Both had dark smudges under their eyes.
Exhaustion lined Zitora’s face. “Feeling better?”
“Thanks to you … and Kade. How did you find me?” I asked the Stormdancer.
“I heard you yell for Master Cowan.”
“We were supposed to meet at the horses. Why were you there?” I asked.
He exchanged a glance with Zitora. She nodded. “We were searching for you.”
I waited.
Zitora sighed. “We met with the Stormdance officials. They arrested the group of ambushers we paralyzed, and despite keeping the magicians unconscious, they escaped the first chance they got. Since we knew the ambushers were free, we wanted to warn you. When we couldn’t find you in the market, we broadened our search.”
“How did they escape?” I asked.
“There was another magician. Since he didn’t use his magic during the attack, I didn’t pick up on it.”
“Blue Eyes is a magician.” I explained about being lured away from the market.
“He could be a one-trick. Makes sense since he couldn’t force you to go with him when you knew about his magic.” Zitora rubbed her eyes.
“Do the guards know who the members of the group are?” I asked.
“Not really,” Zitora said. “After tending your wounds, I returned to talk to the administrator. Seems they are from the Krystal Clan. But we don’t know whether they’re sanctioned by the main government or a separate group. I’ve contacted Irys and she will detour to the Krystal Clan’s capital to investigate.”
“Irys?” Kade asked.
“Master Jewelrose. What about the other magicians?” I asked Zitora. “The woman and man. Are they Keep trained?”
“No. I’ve never seen them before.”
Apprehension coiled in my stomach. “Warpers?”
Zitora shook her head. “No. There are no more Warpers. After General Cahil captured them all, they were executed.”
I relaxed.
“I feel like I’ve come late to the party. What are Warpers?” Kade asked.
I almost groaned out loud. An explanation could take days to tell. “Have you heard of the Daviians?”
“The group of rogue Sandseed Clan members who formed their own clan on the Daviian Plateau?”
“Right. The Daviian magicians, who used to be Sandseed Story Weavers, were the Warpers. They used blood magic to enhance their powers and tried to take control of the Sitian Council.”
“And control the Master Magicians,” Zitora added with a bitter tone. “They almost succeeded, too, because of Roze.”
“Roze Featherstone,” I added for Kade’s benefit. “She was First Magician and the leader of the Daviian Clan.”
“Yes, but Yelena Zaltana stopped them—that part I know. Could this be another group of rogue magicians?” Kade looked at Zitora.
“I don’t know if they’re organized as a group or are just a couple of dissatisfied magicians. Not all magicians in Sitia have to be Keep trained. You’ve learned how to control your power from other Stormdancers. Same with the Sandseed Story Weavers. The Masters can detect uncontrolled power and we find the person before they can flame out, which will kill the person and damage the power source. Once a magician has control of their power, the danger of a flameout is little to none.”
Zitora stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her pants. “I wish I could stay and investigate more, but we need to go. And—” she smiled “—it seems I can’t leave Opal alone without her getting into trouble.”
Her words reminded me. “Did the city guards find Blue Eyes in the alley?”
Zitora sobered. “When we returned, he was gone. And they haven’t found any trace of him.”
My skin crawled with the feeling of being watched by Blue Eyes. I crossed my arms and rubbed my hands along my upper arms. The pain reminded me of how close I had come to being captured and of my inexperience with fighting. “All the more reason to practice with my sais.”
“And more reason for me to ask around. See if I can discover any helpful information,” Kade said. “I’m sure Varun will be fine for another day.”
“Be careful,” Zitora said. “He’s armed.”
“I’m a Stormdancer! Mere metal is nothing compared with the power of a storm.” Kade made his voice boom and spread his arms wide. His eyes sparked with humor. “I. Am. Invincible.”
“Until a happy wind blows,” I said.
“Curse those sunny days.”
“The bane of your existence.”
“The scourge of society.”
“The downfall of decency.”
“And boring, too. Nothing like a good gale to put a spring in your step.” Kade grinned.
It was the first real smile I’d seen from him. His stern demeanor disappeared; replaced by a carefree mischievousness. There was an inner fire in his soul. Muted by grief and loss, but there all the same.
“All right, that’s enough,” Zitora said. “Kade, send us a message if you learn anything.”
“Yes, sir,” he snapped and probably would have saluted if Zitora hadn’t pushed him out the door.
Zitora and I raced to Booruby. She was determined to get there as quickly as possible without exhausting the horses. At different times during the five-day journey, I wished I were a horse, wished I was back at the Keep and even wished for a day of rain to slow our brutal pace. The Barbasco yams only helped with aches and pains, not bone-deep fatigue.
On the afternoon of the fifth day, I caught sight of the brick smokestack from my family’s glass factory. I cried out and urged Quartz faster through the busy streets of Booruby. Located on the far east side of the city, our buildings were the last ones before the Avibian Plains. Funny how I never considered the flat grasslands of the Plains to be so welcoming before.
The