Despite Raziel's thorough healing, Ketil's body still ached.
Dante watched him as he took a deep breath, ascending the stairs of the tower. "You have no idea how much fate's on your side, do you Østberg?"
"I laugh at fate," he said through gritted teeth. "Fate is my—"
"You better not mock fate," Dante said, arm wrapping around his waist. She looked sickly and thin, but she was really quite strong. He guessed it was farm life or whatever, Ketil didn't know anything about it. He allowed her to take some of his weight as she carried a bucket full of wood in the other hand. "Fate is a weighty word to throw around. I think it's better that you thank your lucky stars."
Ketil grimaced, turning into his corridor. "My lucky stars haven't been so lucky now, have they? Maybe instead of fate being on my side, I'm fighting how much fate wants me to die."
"That's one way to look at it," Dante's eyebrows raised. "I mean you're not wrong, you're probably right."
"If fate exists at all." Ketil muttered, stopping at his door. "What does Anubis have on the schedule today?"
"Nothing that I know of, but I doubt she'll stay in town long. You know how she is." Dante paused in his doorway, her bucket of wood hitting her hip. "There's something strange about her, but I suppose there's something strange about all of us." She leaned against the doorframe. "What are you making today?"
Ketil sat down at a table, right hand wrapped around his middle while the left reached towards a mound of clay. He looked back at her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ears. "Something, I don't know what yet." He pressed a thumb into the mound of wet clay. "Something I can control."
Dante looked up at the painted wood ceiling and then to the various scenes around his chamber. "It's a lovely thing you do."
"What?"
"Create things. My abilities allow me to destroy but you can bring things to life."
"Drass, Dante, it's not like that." He stopped, a bit of clay still caked on his hand. He released his still aching body and dug both of his hands into the clay. "You think we can choose what we do? You think that any of us go tot chose what our minds can do? If that was the case, I wouldn't choose this." He lifted up the bit of clay, breathing in its earthy smell. "Aras aste ves und."
"What is that?"
"Literally it means 'there is more than one'. The powers of creation and destruction go hand in hand, it all just depends on how you use it. You have a bucket of wood there, yes? What will you do with it? Will you start a fire to warm yourself or burn down Kantloe? Will you shape a wooden spoon or an arrow's shaft? Will you whittle it into a flute or carve it into a spear? There is more than one way to carve a piece of wood."
He was silent for a brief moment. "My father used to tell it to me when I was a child, whenever the batræ power first revealed itself." He began to work the clay with his hands, eyebrows furrowed to contain his emotions. "Before I knew the power of the elder laws and just how strict that tradition is."
Dante sat on the ground beside him, pulling out a knife. She crossed her legs, leaning against a bookshelf of Polarian literature. She pulled a long branch from the bucket, her fingers whittling away as she stared up at him. "You know, I don't think I'll ever truly understand you. Kleptomaniac? Polarian prince? Introverted extrovert? Scholarly fool?"
"I am a riddle to myself," Ketil grinned this time, shaking a loose strand of hair away from his eyes. "What are you making?"
"Arrow shafts, wooden arrows are cheap and easy to make. I'll have to make fletchings later, I'm sure Raziel knows somewhere to find feathers."
"Besides just killing the birds?" Ketil frowned at his beginning creation, the lumpy mass bore no real resemblance to a falcon. He mashed his palm against the figurine, reducing it to nothing.
"Raziel will know a way to fix fletchings," she whispered, drawing her knife through the thin layer of bark.
~~~
The newest recruit was in Raziel's opinion, quite likely to get shot within the next month—perhaps even week. Not by some sort of pissed off townsman who thought harboring both a riesun and a friend of the night was too much, but by Anubis herself. Vasco Dracon was loud and gaudy, even for Anubis' types. It was likely that she would shoot him in the next week just for his flippant ways.
"How much money do you suppose she has?" Vasco said from the stall beside Raziel. "I mean to live in a place like this with plenty of merchant friends and—"
Raziel ignored him, picking up a wire comb to carefully pick knots out of the mare's hair. "Rich people know nothing about horses, do they?" He whispered, laying a hand flat against her neck. Her age was evident by the greying hair around her face. Rich people had a terrible habit of turning aging horses into food—half the reason Raziel stole her from the party last night. "I will take care of you," he whispered lowly.
"Did you say something?" Vasco said, interrupting his own monologue to tie his hair up into a ponytail.
"No."
"Are you talking to the horse then? It's a horse, Raziel."
"I know that, but don't you think horses can understand us?" Raziel carefully saddled the old mare, tugging at his riding boots as he bridled her. "I believe they know us more than we know them."
Now he pulled on thin leather gloves as he stepped into the stirrups and threw a leg over the horse. He pulled on the reins a little, clucking his tongue as he applied pressure to her flanks. It was enough to send her forward.
"You're not even going to answer my question then?" Vasco called as Raziel grabbed his pack from where it hung on a peg. He threw the bag over his shoulder, taking a breath. If he shut his eyes and remembered to steady his breathing, he'd forget about the fresh bullet wound in his leg. It was healed, just annoying. At least it didn't interrogate him with questions about Anubis' wealth.
He ducked his head low to the horse as they exited the stable. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as he tugged on the reins. A cold wind blew over him and his teeth clicked together as he looked up to the grey sky.
Snow. No doubt about it, there was snow on the way. Anubis won't like that.
Raziel shifted his shoulders, head bowed a little so the wind didn't directly hit his face.
A woman and her child noticed him from the streets, bowing their heads a little as Raziel steadied the mare and stared at them. He remembered the girl, but only faintly and only by the thick band of scar tissue over the right side of her face. Dog bite, he thought to himself as their eyes met. Back two or three years ago when a bout of rabies ran through Kantloe, a dog in town got sick and bit her in the face. Raziel healed her, but he couldn't smooth out the scarred skin or heal her vision.
He bowed lower in response to them, making his way down the street. He was probably the only one from the tower than the townspeople truly knew—besides Anubis. Everyone knew Anubis. It was better that way. Ketil was a liability, despite his abilities. Dante was nothing more than a child and Anubis would never forgive herself if something happened to her.
"Good day, Master Sousa." A man said from the doorway of a factory.
Raziel slowed a little, staring into his eyes. "Sir."
"Have you seen the reports?"
"Of what?" He stopped now, turning towards the man. "What reports?"
"From the city of Augsbern?"
Another port city, pestis. "No, what is it?"
"More riesun were found and killed in a mass slaughter. They seem to be working their way up the coast. Kantloe will be a stop on the map, I'm sure, we are a rather large town. I thought you and your friends might want to know." He checked his watch, "but don't let me keep you busy, Master Sousa, I'm sure you have business to attend."
Raziel pulled on his cloak, eyes locked onto the man. "Thank you, I will alert the tower upon my return." Another strike of his heels and the horse broke into a walk.
Augsbern wasn't too far from Kantloe—perhaps a two day ride with a good horse. There were cities between them, but how much longer would they withstand the purge? Anubis wouldn't run, right? She wouldn't just pack up her possessions and force them out of the town they had forced themselves into, right?
Raziel bowed his head against the elements turning onto a smaller street and following it into a trail in the woods. He lifted his head, taking down his hood. His ears stung as the wind bit at his bare skin, but the forest hid things that only alert peoples could hear and see.
Not just the highwaymen and thieves along the trail, they were usually kinder to riesun, but the Inquisition. Inquisitors were known to hide in the brush along trails and jump out to check identification.
Raziel kicked the horse forward a little faster, slumping over in the saddle to check by the trail's side. He reached into his cloak, gloved hands wrapping around the hilt of a knife. It never hurt to be prepared, especially with the Inquisition.
When he was a child, his mother was burned alive for just harboring riesun, not that she knew what she was doing. Raziel hadn't proven himself to have riesun blood at that point so the Inquisitors didn't bother to take him away. And he watched as his mother burned.
He'd thought back on that moment so many times, on what he would have done if he was older. Stop the proceedings? Free his mother? Try to heal her? Just watch as the younger version did?
He let a breath whistle through his teeth as the clearing appeared in the distance. It was no use wondering about the past, the past was final with no returns.
Raziel exited the path, throwing his hood up again. He released the knife in his cloak and looked over the village. Rows of barren fields greeted him, intermittent with small dark houses (if one could call them houses and not huts).
"Not much farther," he whispered to his horse, turning her to the first house. He rode past slowly, watching tiny faces stare at him as he passed. How many of them were riesun? How many of them would grow up to kill riesun? That was just a fact of life. Boys fought to play the role of Inquisitor—Raziel himself could remember playing that role as a child. Before his mother grabbed him off the street and gave him a striping for that.
He rode between the barren fields, the dirt red and cold. It barely grew anything in summer and now winter had completely rendered it useless. With the snow coming tomorrow, he guessed, these people would be stuck in here.
He stopped in front of a rather run down house, dismounting and tying the horse's reins to a low branch of a tree. The door of the house opened quickly, a young man standing there silhouetted in dim and foul smelling light. His eyes were wide, the whites glowing in the light. His fingers fumbled with the door.
"Master Sousa, come quickly."
Raziel followed him inside, rubbing his hands together from the cold. It wasn't much warmer inside but there was a small fire going in the fireplace. He replaced his hood and stared at the man. "Well?"
"You can heal her?"
"Did you bring what I requested?"
The man nodded slowly, looking to the other side of the room. "We don't have many animals here, but this is what I could manage." He motioned towards a small woven basket. "It's a dove. I can go ahead and slaughter it if you desire."
"No, it has to be alive." Raziel took a breath, drawing his cloak around his body. "Where is she?"
He walked to the other side of the room, drawing back a curtain. "You can heal her, right?"
Raziel stared at the young woman as she slept with one arm wrapped around a bundle of cloth. Her chest heaved with breaths, sweat dripping from her forehead. Raziel took off his gloves, shoving them into his pocket. "How long has she been ill?"
The man knelt beside her, taking the cloth away. The woman woke slowly, her face red and eyes widened. "Giles—"
He took her hand, "it's okay. He's going to help us. He's going to heal you."
"The baby—"
"I have her here," Giles said pushing open the cloth to reveal the sleeping infant. Raziel's heart pounded a little faster as Giles pressed a hand to the woman's head. "For the past two days, I've tried to get the bleeding under control and her fever has only spiked. I think the baby is healthy, but…"
"Two days? She had the baby two days ago?"
The woman nodded and Giles hugged the baby to his chest. Tears slowly dripped from his face but he hid them.
"Go," Raziel said but his voice commanded authority. "Go into the other room, let me be alone with her."
"Please, Master Sousa—"
"Please leave."
Giles gave the woman a small kiss, smiling. "You're going to be okay." He left before she could see the fear in his eyes.
Raziel knelt by her side, "you're going to be okay."
"You're the riesun healer aren't you," her teeth chattered together and Raziel nodded. For a moment her eyes filled with fear but she pushed it away, grabbing for his hand. He jerked away before she could touch him.
"Can you heal me?"
"I will try. I need you to relax. Just calm down and let me take over, okay?"
She nodded, just slightly relaxing.
Raziel took a breath, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead. His other hand grabbed onto her arm as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He shut his eyes as the heat of her fever finally registered against his skin. He braced himself, head bowed, teeth gritted against what always came next.
Pain.
There was always pain with healing. He took the pain and injuries from the person, experiencing all of them for a moment or until another it found another vector. He wasn't really a healer in that sense, he could just transfer injury from one living creature to another. But there was a time when he had to take that pain upon his own shoulders and it was truly hell.
Raziel ripped his hands away when the pain became too much. His body was soaked in sweat, his forehead burning with fever. Bile stung his throat and he gagged, desperately rushing to his feet. His body ached and for a moment he stumbled, hitting his head on a table. He yelled out a curse, crawling beyond the curtain.
Black dots marked his vision and he knew without a doubt that soon he would be unconscious and then dead. Healing had taught him one thing for certain. Pain demanded to be felt, it had no preference for skin color or race or class or gender. Pain—like death—had no discrimination.
He opened the basket frantically, grabbing the dove inside as the pain began to dissipate. He held the bird tighter as it struggled, wings and feet trying to escape his hands as his face pressed against the dirt floor of the house. The bird slowly stopped moving, it's legs uselessly clawing at his palms as his fingers dug into the fuzzy down of its breast.
And it was over.
He released the limp bird back into the basket, going limp himself.
"I don't understand," Giles whispered as Raziel remained on his stomach, still breathing heavily as his nose pressed into the dirt. "You killed it?"
"There is a price to pay for healing. I can't make pain or injury disappear—I wish I could. To save the life of something, something else must be taken. That's the way the world works. Cruel thing, isn't it?" Raziel lifted his head, looking up to him as he held the child tight against his chest. "Terrible thing, but what can I do?"
He looked down at her with large eyes. "And she'll be okay?"
"She will make a recovery." He rolled onto his back, sitting up before standing. His head spun for a moment and he leaned against the wall. "Let her rest, keep her warm—there's a storm coming." A bit of blood and small scratches marked his hands but he ignored them.
"It is cold out there." Giles said in shock.
"Besides, you might be quartering Inquisitors from the storm soon enough." He pulled the gloves from his pockets, slipping them over his fingers. He sighed deeply, flexing his fingers.
Giles watched him with a bit of fear before pulling a small satchel from his coat. "Here, it's all the coin I have."
"Keep it."
"I can't owe you."
"Tend to your own." Raziel pressed the coins back into his hands. "You have your wife and daughter to care for."
"I can't owe you." He looked into Giles' eyes, looking at the fear installed deep within the green irises. "Please."
"Anubis doesn't know I'm here, no one knows I'm here." He took a step back. "If you're that desperate to pay me, I will take this." He picked up the limp dove. "No use in letting it go to waste."
"She won't come to kill us, will she?" Giles lowered his voice as Raziel threw up the hood of his cloak.
"No, she doesn't know. No one knows so don't talk about it, yeah?"
He nodded as Raziel headed back into the cold. "Thank you." Raziel nodded, mounting his mare before watching Giles from the outside.
"Take care of yourselves, Lord know we all are going to need it." He kicked the mare forward into a gallop.
"Where have you been?" Anubis muttered, grabbing his horse's bridle as she steadied her own.
"Where have you been?" He said back to her, shivering in the open air of Kantloe's market.
"House call, Raziel?" She smiled a little, eyebrow raised.
He shrugged, handing her the dove in his cloak. "They were poor."
"You're a bloody saint, Raziel." She grinned, reining both of their horses back towards the Spire. "I've never known someone so willing to help the people that would cut him down without a word of protest."
"They're terrified of you, Anubis." His teeth chattered together as she laughed.
"They should be, they should all be terrified by me. I know I am." She shivered, "snow storm coming in."
"The Inquisition is coming up the coast, they raided Augsburn."
Anubis was silent. "We are under protection."
"The Inquisition wouldn't know that and they wouldn't believe you. You know that." Raziel took her reins as she pulled a letter from her saddlebags.
"Speaking of protection, I have a letter from Mikhail." She examined the red wax seal on the back, tracing a gloved finger against the rose impression. "I'm being summoned again. I don't know what he wants."
"Knowing Mikhail, It's important. He only writes when it's necessary." The Spire loomed in front of them, the clock chiming five times. "It's cold out here, go ahead inside. I'll curry the horses and make sure the animals are cared for."
She looked to him, "you truly are a saint aren't you?"
"A saint with red hands."
She nodded, lifting her head as a snowflake caught in her cowl. "Then what does that make me?"
"You are something the common people like to call revenge." He shivered, "find out what Mikhail wants and tell me. I have a feeling we won't rest for long. And if the Inquisition comes for us, what do we do?"
"We fight them like we've always done. After all, I am Lady Revenge." She grinned at him, breaking the wax seal on the letter.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
