Thia stared at them. “What scepter?”
Caelynn raised a hand, pointing to her waist, but didn’t meet Thia’s gaze. “That one.”
Her hand reached for the weapon at her side as she stared at the two of them. “Your parents made this? And you didn’t tell me?”
Adam coughed. “You’ve got questions. We knew you would. Here is not the right place to ask them. We can lead you to the refuge, make sure everyone’s warm and dry. Feed the horses, let them rest. This storm’s not going away, and bandits will have our trail soon if we don’t move.” His shoulders slumped as his focus shifted to Jinaari. “I know you don’t trust either of us right now. I wouldn’t either, if I was in your shoes. And maybe you won’t after we tell you everything. But this is not the place for that discussion. Ours is a story not meant for many ears.”
“Get on your horse,” Jinaari whispered in her ear, “and stay close.”
She walked toward her mount and saw him extinguish the small fire. As she settled into her saddle, she saw him pause at Adam’s side. “We’ll do it your way. For now. The minute I think you’re still lying to me, though, Thia and I leave. Don’t even think about following us.”
“She’s our family, too. We never wanted to hurt either of you.”
“I meant what I said, warlock.”
Thia watched Jinaari mount his horse. Caelynn looked at her, tears in her eyes, but didn’t speak. Their parents made the scepter? And they didn’t say anything until now? Why? What could they know about it that is so bad they kept it hidden this long?
Adam turned in his saddle. “Caelynn, make sure we’re not followed.” The bard spun her horse around, giving them room to pass her. The warlock looked at her and Jinaari. Gnat sat in front of him, confusion on his face. “It’s not far.” Facing the road, he urged his horse to a walk.
“Stay alert,” Jinaari whispered as he rode next to her.
Thia nodded, keeping her gaze on Adam’s back. The red cloak he wore seemed faded somehow. His shoulders were slumped, as if defeated. There’s more to this. A lot more. If there wasn’t, they would’ve said something before now. If not to me, then to Jinaari. The scepter was lost for centuries! He told me he was old enough to remember when Tanisal was a thriving city, and I accepted that. Why not tell me the whole story?
“When we get where he’s leading us,” Jinaari said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I need you to listen. Things are likely to get heated between us. You might pick up something I miss. Watch Caelynn’s body language closely. She thinks she can hide how she’s feeling, but she does have her tells.”
Thia nodded. “I’ve got questions, too. Especially about the scepter.”
“Ask them. We won’t let them rest until we know everything. If I think they’re hiding anything, you and I will take Gnat and leave. Understood?”
“Yes.” I don’t want to leave them behind, but his reasoning makes sense, she thought. First, it was that Adam was sent to kill me. Now, his parents helped make the scepter? Is this why he lied about going to Cirrain first? Or why he didn’t tell us about the book he borrowed from the archives in Almair? What else are they hiding? And why didn’t they trust us enough to say something before now?
Adam stopped in front of a smooth part of the canyon wall. Dismounting, he looked at her and Jinaari. “We have to lead the horses. Keep a tight grip on them; they might get spooked at first.” He reached up and helped Gnat down.
Thia glanced at Jinaari, waiting for him to agree before she dismounted. He looked at her, nodding once. She swung her leg over the back of her horse, easing herself onto the ground. Walking toward the horse’s head, she grabbed his bridle as she looked ahead.
Adam stood next to a nondescript rock wall. The moon, obscured by the storm clouds, provided no details beyond it being wet. “It’s solid stone,” she said.
“Not as solid as you might think,” Adam said, turning his head to look at them. “Keep a tight hold on your horse.” With one hand on the bridle and the other leading Gnat, the warlock walked forward and disappeared.
Thia glanced at Jinaari; his face was a mask. “Go,” he told her, “I’ll follow.”
Taking a deep breath, she tugged at her horse and walked toward the stone. Don’t think, just go. As she got closer, she raised one hand, expecting it to hit solid rock.
It didn’t.
As soon as she went past the illusion, the rain stopped. The air was warm and dry. A forest surrounded a wide path. Adam stood several yards away, still holding his horse’s reins. Gnat was on the saddle, watching her.
“Friend Thia made it!” he said.
She walked closer to them, “Yes, Gnat. I made it.” Mounting her horse, she glanced back. Jinaari emerged from the wall, followed by Caelynn. Turning toward Adam, she said, “Where are we?”
“We’re not there yet,” he said as he swung up into his saddle behind Gnat. “The refuge isn’t far. The entry is keyed. No one can follow us, and there’s nothing in here that will cause us harm.”
Jinaari moved alongside her. “You didn’t answer her question.”
“This is a sacred space, one that Lexi made. It mirrors where she grew up, before she was raised up by Nannan. It’s used now as a place of rest, solace, for those she thinks need it.” Adam turned his horse and started to head down the path.
Thia breathed in the fresh pine of the forest. “At least it’s not raining,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” Jinaari replied. “Dawn’s coming. That’ll help us see.”
“What do you think this refuge will be?”
He shrugged. “Whatever it is doesn’t matter unless we get the truth out of them.”
Looking back to the road, she saw a field about a hundred yards ahead of them. In the center sat a house; the front door flanked by large windows. As they got closer, she saw a barn to the right. A tall man, with two youths, stood on the path. For a moment, her heart stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Jinaari asked.
“It’s,” she struggled to find the words, “it’s almost identical to the house from my nightmare.”
His head snapped toward her. “How close?”
She shook her head. “It’s a common enough design to put a barn to one side, have the door in the middle of the house. The people waiting where they are.” She took a deep breath and exhaled, “Lexi and Keroys have always been on good terms. If this is truly her refuge, I don’t anticipate an ambush.”
“That’s the problem,” he replied. “We don’t know yet if it is her refuge.”
The forest retreated, revealing a well-tended meadow filled with wildflowers. To Thia’s left, a line of archery targets stretched out in the distance. Turning her attention forward, she took a closer look at the people waiting for them. The tall man, with gray hair and beard, stood with his hands folded in front of him. The other two imitated his stance.
Adam stopped, dismounting, and Thia brought her horse to a halt. The man pulled a small axe from his belt and laid it on the ground; the blade handle pointed toward Adam.
“Get down,” Jinaari said. “It’s safe.”
“How do you know?” Thia asked.
He looked at her, pointing at the axe. “He put it down so Adam could use it against him, if necessary. It’s a sign of trust.”
Thia dismounted, grabbing the reins as she moved to the horse’s head. Adam had helped Gnat down, then approached their host. Picking up the axe, he said, “We would not seek hospitality if it was not sorely needed.”
“Lexi would not have sent me to welcome you, if she did not wish to have you here.” The man looked up, watching as Thia and Jinaari walked closer. “I am Volk, First Arrow of Lexi Stormbow. In her name, I offer you refuge within her home.”
“We are glad for the refuge offered,” Jinaari said.
Volk looked at them. “The Shield and Scepter are welcome always. Lexi knows of your recent trials, Daughter of Keroys, and is most distressed over what happened. It is why she could not be here to greet you herself. She meets with her brothers, in an effort to find the source of your night terror.”
“Purr-purr?” Gnat asked, tugging on Volk’s pant leg.
He smiled. “Lexi did send him, knowing you would want to see him. He’s inside.”
“Purr-purr!” Gnat exclaimed, running toward the house.
Volk looked at Thia, smiling. “Lexi is fond of cats. There’s one in particular, a white and gray one, that Gnat has a connection with. He’s normally a cantankerous cat, but he’ll stay still and let him pet him for hours. Don’t be surprised if you see little of Gnat during your visit. But, come,” he nodded, “your night was long, and your bodies are as weary as your souls. I shall show you to your rooms.” He pushed the two youths forward, and they came to collect their horses. “Micha and Cinna will care for your mounts, make sure your gear is brought to you, while I escort you inside.” His face went stern as he turned to Adam. “Lexi has instructed me to tell you and the bard to tend to your own mounts and gear. Once you are done, go to the chapel. She has much to say to you before you rejoin your companions.”
“Please, Daughter?” One of the youths nodded toward Thia’s hands that gripped the reins.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry,” she stammered as she handed them over. Jinaari moved closer to her as their horses were led away. Adam and Caelynn didn’t look at either of them as they followed behind the stable hands.
“We have questions for them, as well,” Jinaari said. “Will they be gone long?”
Volk gestured at the house, and they walked toward it. Their host joined them as he spoke. “Lexi takes as long as she must. Surely, you’ve encountered the same with Garret and Keroys? The Gods don’t bow to our timelines but create their own.” He paused, then continued, “I am sure you will both have plenty of time to rest, recover from the recent events. Lexi was beyond displeased at the night terror you were subjected to, Daughter. To be frank, she was cursing worse than I’ve ever heard when Keroys contacted her.”
“Keroys knew, then?” Thia asked.
“Only that he couldn’t find you, sense your presence. Had the Shield not been able to reach you, the Gods themselves would’ve intervened. When he gave chase, Garret alerted his family that he knew where you were physically. But none could find your soul, it was so well hidden from them.”
Thia glanced at Jinaari. “The Shield is likely the only one who could’ve reached me, Volk. I’m beyond grateful for his intervention.”
They reached the house. She sighed inwardly; the structure was stone, not wood. Up close, there was nothing outside of the position of the windows and door that reminded her of what happened earlier. “If you’ll follow me,” Volk said as he opened the door, “I’ll show you to your room. I have to apologize, however. Lexi has never been one for grand homes, and this refuge isn’t meant for many guests.”
“I’m Thia’s protector, Volk. I’m not leaving her alone.”
Volk nodded, “I anticipated as much. There are two beds in each room.” He stopped after walking down a short hallway. “The keys are inside. I’ll let you choose which one is most to your liking.” On either side of the corridor were two heavy doors. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure Gnat has found Purr-purr.” He bowed once, then walked between them and left.
Thia looked at Jinaari. “Well? Which one?”
He opened the door to one, then closed it. “That one,” he said, pointing to the other door.
Twisting the knob, she opened the door and walked in. The room wasn’t large. Two beds, with a small table between them, sat against a wall. Across from them, logs burned in the hearth, warming the room. A pair of sturdy chairs and a table were close enough to keep the occupants warm.
“Get some sleep,” Jinaari said. “I’ll keep watch.”
Thia sat on one of the beds. “I’m more hungry than tired.”
He turned the key in the lock, then looked at her. “What did you say?”
“I’m hungry, not tired. Do you think they’ll take long with our packs? I could really use something to eat.”
“Thia,” he said, “you’ve barely eaten for a month.” He walked over and sat on the other bed. “How are you feeling?”
She blinked. “Fine, I think. I’m still mad at Adam and Caelynn, anxious about what else they’ve been keeping from us. And my stomach feels as if it’s hollow.” I wonder, she thought. She looked at him, hope rising. “Do you have a dagger?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Give it to me.”
Reaching behind him, he pulled out a small knife. The blade was smaller than the palm of her hand, but it would be sharp enough. “What are you thinking, Thia?”
She smiled, unable to contain her excitement. “I’m hungry for the first time in a month, Jinaari. I’m not coughing. What if,” she paused, “what if the way I broke free of the nightmare purged whatever was making me sick?”
“It’s possible,” he said, his voice even. “I’ve only seen you do that one other time.”
“Exactly.” The words came out in an excited rush. “When I was Lolc Aon’s prisoner. It purged all the drugs she’d forced me to take out of my body. Doesn’t it make sense that it would do it again?”
“But that doesn’t explain why you want this,” he held up the blade.
“If I couldn’t heal myself because my body was using my stores to fight the illness… and if it’s gone . . .” she started to say.
“Then you should be able to heal yourself again,” Jinaari finished the thought. “You want to use this to find out.”
Thia reached for the knife, but he pulled it back. “It won’t be a big cut,” she said, “nothing you can’t heal if I can’t. But I need to know.”
“I understand your logic, Thia. I’ll do it, after you’ve eaten something.” The hand he had the knife in disappeared behind his back. “Your body’s shaking right now. Lack of food, sleep, the nightmare . . . any of those would throw someone off balance. I don’t want you to cut yourself in such a way that you do damage I can’t fix.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Thia looked up. “Wait here,” Jinaari said as he rose. Walking to the door, she saw him pull the key out of a pocket. “Yes?”
A muffled voice said, “Pardon, Shield. We have your bags, and food if you’re hungry.”
Jinaari’s body blocked her view, but the door opened. The two youths from earlier came inside. One carried their packs, while the other took a tray over to the table near the fireplace. “Where would you like these, Scepter?” Cinna asked, raising the bags.
“Over there, please” Thia replied, pointing to the end of the other bed. “Thank you.”
Both of them bowed and left without another word. Jinaari closed the door, and she saw him pocket the key. “Eat,” he said, pointing at the table.
Rising, she stared at him. “Only if I have your word that we’ll try my idea when I’m finished.”
He tilted his head, giving her an exasperated look. “You really need me to give my word?”
Crossing her arms across her chest, she nodded. “Yes. You’ve said, multiple times, that you’re my sworn protector. You’re supposed to keep me from getting hurt. We’re going to do just that and I don’t want you trying to weasel out on a technicality.” She relaxed slightly. “I need to know, Jinaari. Especially since there’s a chance we won’t have the others with us when we leave here.”
He walked over to her, putting both his hands on her arms. “If it sets your mind at ease, then you have my word. But not until after you’ve eaten.” He turned her around and pushed her toward the table. “Start slow. Your body needs the food, but eating too fast will make you sick.”
Thia laughed, finding her way into a chair. The tray held goblets and two covered dishes. Lifting one, she saw a steaming pile of meat smothered in a rich gravy, and vegetables. “It smells wonderful,” she said.
He sat opposite her, picking up the other plate. “Eat, Thia. Then we’ll do your experiment.”
She stabbed at a piece of the meat, reminding herself to take it slow. It smelled so good, and her stomach growled in anticipation. Has it really been a month since I wanted to eat? She thought back as she chewed. Pan’s wedding feast, the night we left Cirrain. That’s the last time I really felt hungry. Was I sick before then? “Even if this illness – curse – whatever – is gone, I want to figure out what it was. If there’s a way to prevent it from coming back, or cure it in others, it’s worth tracking down.”
“It is,” he said. “There’s a chapterhouse in the city. If they don’t have a library, they’ll know where one is. We can spare a day or two searching. Go visit Gnat’s friend, get his property back, take him home.”
“After that, what will we do?” Thia asked. She put her plate back on the tray. It was practically empty.
“Go back to Cirrain or Almair, see if there’s any problems we need to take care of.” He looked at her, a sadness in his eyes. “If things aren’t cleared up with Adam, you and I should find other another place to stay besides the Green Frog. Did you leave anything important in your room?”
Thia shook her head. “No. Just some clothes, nothing I can’t replace easily.” She leaned back in her chair. “Do you really think it’s that bad? Whatever else they need to tell us?”
“It’s not what they’re going to tell us, Thia. It’s what they don’t, and their reasons why they kept this quiet for so long.” He pointed to her hip. “I was angry when Adam told me about his mission, how he led you into the spider nest. That he was ready to kill you if they came after him, trying to protect you. If it comes out that there’s something either of them knew about the scepter that is behind what you’ve gone through,” he shook his head, “I can’t trust them to keep you safe when my back’s turned.”
“I can’t think about that, not right now,” she said. “I trust you, know you’ll make the right decision. If you say we leave them behind, that’s what we do.” She felt a tear trickle down her face and she wiped it away. “They’re still family, though. We need to hear them out.”
“We will. I promise.”
She held out her hand, palm up. “Where do you want to make the cut?”
“Not on your palm,” he said as he rose, pulling the chair closer. “There’s too many important parts. You won’t want to hold anything if you’ve got a bandage across your hand.” He took her hand and turned it over. “I’ll make the cut here,” he traced a small spot on her forearm. Looking up, Thia was taken aback by the severity in his eyes. “You get two tries at this, no more. If it doesn’t work, I’m healing you and we move on. Understood?”
“I understand,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she watched him bring his blade back out. Without hesitating, he drew it swiftly across her skin. A thin, red line formed; blood seeped out in a slow trickle.
She formed the sigil in her mind and released it. Her heart sank as nothing happened immediately, then she noticed the skin begin to fuse together at one end of the cut. Seconds later, all that remained was a drying trickle of blood. She looked at Jinaari, a small smile working its way to her face. “It worked.” Her voice cracked as she began to cry from relief. “It’s gone. Whatever made me sick is gone.”
Jinaari pulled her to her feet, and she folded herself into his embrace. “That’s one less thing we need to worry about,” he said.