Cold Fire (Spiritwalker 2)

“I’m not burned,” he whispered. “It was so strange…the fire pouring through me like I was the conduit into another place…I can’t keep my eyes open.”

I pulled off his boots and unbuttoned his dirtied jacket and pried him out of it as he made a faint protest and promptly passed out. I pressed my cheek against his. His breathing remained even and steady, so I stepped back and let him sleep. I scarcely noticed that I handled both my cane and his cold steel until I propped them against the wardrobe and realized his sword had not stung me.

The door opened and Bee appeared. “Blessed Tanit! There’s blood on your sleeve!” She ran to me, but stopped before embracing me. “Your skin looks flushed.”

“Drake used me as a catch-fire.” The words were strangely easy to say, as if I were speaking of someone else. “Vai, too, but it didn’t burn him.”

She swayed, and it was I who maneuvered her to the bed, where she sat with a look of stunned horror. “What happened to Andevai, then?” she whispered.

“He drained himself to stop Drake. He just fell hard asleep.”

She grasped my hands convulsively. When I whimpered, she released me. “How bad is it?”

“I feel like I came up one spit short of being cooked. But it’s not too bad, more the shock.”

“I should never have sent that note. I mentioned it in front of Drake. I will kill him myself?!”

“Leave Drake alone, Bee. I’ll take care of him. Believe me, I can.”

She had left the door open. Juba appeared at the threshold. He carried a tray with a pitcher and basin, a vial, a ceramic jar stoppered with a bit of cork, strips of linen, and a small glass bottle. With a surgeon’s knife he cut away the blood-soaked cloth, careful of my modesty, and washed the wound, which was more of a gouge along the skin. I had been fortunate. Just below my elbow, he paused as a swipe of the cloth cleaned a smear of blood off to reveal the bite scar. He looked up, meeting my gaze although I could not guess what he was thinking. He glanced at Bee and, without a word, finished his nursing. After painting the gash with a white salve, he bound it with linen.

“For the skin,” he said, indicating the ceramic jar. He picked up the bottle. “A cup eases the inflammation. Maybe it makes her drowsy or gives her vivid dreams.”

He and Bee stood together like lovers who mean to argue. Bee glanced at me and back at him from under hooded eyes, and he nodded and left.

“Did you?” I asked.

“I did not.” She turned the key in the lock.

I stripped. The jar contained a sticky clear ointment that cooled my skin gloriously. Bee rubbed it on my back and then combed a light layer of olive oil through my hair, glancing at Vai all the while. “For if he were to wake up and catch you naked, it would embarrass me beyond belief.”

“He’s clothed!”

“Yes, but it is one thing for you and me to bathe and change together, and another for there to be a stranger in the room with one or both of us in that condition.”

“He is no stranger,” I murmured. He looked like a man who ought to be woken with a kiss.

“I take it by that cryptic utterance and unrelentingly fatuous expression that you and he are reconciled. Be sure I wish to know no details whatsoever.” She filled a cup from the bottle and handed it to me. “Nap for a few hours. I’ll wake you. We leave mid-afternoon to take a carriage to the festival gate. The cacica has declared she must undertake my final instruction herself.”

“In Sharagua?”

“No. There is a palace at the border, where the areito will be held. It isn’t far, but I have to stay there. Cat, you must nap. You look exhausted and stunned. But I must selfishly ask…I can have one attendant with me for the twenty days. I know that you two…it’s a long time to be away from him…”

“Of course I will go with you! I have to stay with you until after Hallows’ Night no matter what, with or without Vai. But you’ll have to tell me what I need to do and not do.”

“Don’t worry. You know how I love to boss you about. And to show you how much I love you for coming with me, let me take that jacket of his downstairs so the laundresses can clean it.”

She departed with the jacket, and I locked the door. After braiding my hair and drinking the liquid with its sweetly chalky taste, I lay down. An attempt to clasp the sleeping Vai met with success: The lotion had soothed my inflamed skin enough that the touch of cloth did not chafe. But when I closed my eyes, I remembered the fire bursting in my heart.

o;I’m not burned,” he whispered. “It was so strange…the fire pouring through me like I was the conduit into another place…I can’t keep my eyes open.”

I pulled off his boots and unbuttoned his dirtied jacket and pried him out of it as he made a faint protest and promptly passed out. I pressed my cheek against his. His breathing remained even and steady, so I stepped back and let him sleep. I scarcely noticed that I handled both my cane and his cold steel until I propped them against the wardrobe and realized his sword had not stung me.

The door opened and Bee appeared. “Blessed Tanit! There’s blood on your sleeve!” She ran to me, but stopped before embracing me. “Your skin looks flushed.”

“Drake used me as a catch-fire.” The words were strangely easy to say, as if I were speaking of someone else. “Vai, too, but it didn’t burn him.”

She swayed, and it was I who maneuvered her to the bed, where she sat with a look of stunned horror. “What happened to Andevai, then?” she whispered.