His gaping wounds sealed together without a scar, pulled into place as if by invisible hands. His twisted limbs straightened and returned to their normal appearance as his bones knitted, and his bruises vanished. His fingers and toes grew back more slowly. The raw ends sealed and new fingers sprouted, complete with nails. The strangeness of his healing made some of the Truemen pale and turn away.
No Trueman, even if a Mujar healed them, could regrow lost parts. Those whom the sight did not unsettle leant closer to watch the phenomenon, muttering about 'image twisting' and 'world patterning'. Talsy ignored them, a lump blocking in her throat as Chanter's heart began to beat again, a pulse throbbing at his throat. He continued to lie cold and still, however, his eyes glazed. Remembering the Dolana, she pulled him as far as she could onto her lap, surprised by his lightness. He warmed, and she held him while he convulsed.
Chanter's contortions calmed and his features relaxed. He opened his eyes to look up at her. Another bucket of water splashed over them, and he only shivered. Talsy held up a hand to stem the next bucket, and the student stepped back, putting it on a table.
Chanter raised his hands and flexed them, examining his new fingers. The skin was still thin and tender, the nails pink and soft, but hardening. Shissar flowed through him softly now, a faint tingle deep within him. The air swelled as he called upon the Powers, and he rejoiced at their return to his command, filling the room with rushing wind and the faint sound of beating wings.
The doctors glanced at each other, and Jashon scowled. Sitting up, Chanter leant on a hand and bowed his head, his wet hair hiding his face. He knew that everyone held their breath except Talsy, who smiled and wiped the hair from his brow. Raising his head, he looked up at the doctors, his gaze flitting from face to face, meeting hard, unrepentant stares. Raising a hand, he held it out, palm up.
'No harm.'
Jashon demanded, 'What does he mean by that?'
Tranton shot his friend an impatient glance. 'He won't harm us.'
'We already know that!'
Chanter turned to Talsy with a faint smile. 'Gratitude.'
'Hey, wait a minute!' Jashon started forward, but Tranton held him back.
'It doesn't matter who he gives the gratitude to,' Tranton said. 'She's in as much danger as the rest of us.'
Talsy gazed into Chanter's eyes, smiled and completed the ritual. 'Wish.'
He nodded. 'Wish.'
'Please will you protect the city from the Hashon Jahar?'
Jashon muttered, 'Begging from a damned Mujar!'
Chanter cocked his head, and his smile broadened as he studied the girl. His eyes flicked to the doctors, then back to her. 'Big Wish.'
Jashon started forward again. 'Big bloody favour we did you, you damned yellow monkey!'
Tranton pulled him back, the other doctors aiding him.
Talsy nodded, her eyes stinging at his gentle nature. A Trueman would have railed at his mistreatment and cursed his erstwhile tormentors for torturing him. A Trueman would also have made good his escape now, she reflected, or used the Powers to punish those who had harmed him and left the rest at the mercy of the Hashon Jahar. Then again, a Trueman would have given in to their demands in order to escape the pain.
She whispered, 'Big Wish.'
Chanter's eyes slid away, hidden by thick lashes. 'Three days.'
'You bastard!' Jashon roared, clawing his way towards the Mujar. 'You'll protect the city until it's damned well safe!'
Talsy shot Jashon a hard glance before turning back to the Mujar. 'For three days you'll protect the city, then you'll be free.'
'Yes.'
Jashon made inarticulate noises while his peers held him back. Chanter's eyes fell on the angry red wound on her arm, and he frowned. 'You're hurt.'
She shrugged. 'It's just a scratch.'
The Mujar rose to his feet, and several doctors stepped back. Tranton watched him with narrowed eyes. Talsy scrambled up and stood beside Chanter, who glanced around at the hostile men, then turned to the table. He dipped his hand into the bucket of water, took hold of her arm and raised it to trickle water onto it. The air filled with mist again, the light twisted in strange underwater visions, and the soft sound of running water mixed with the distant thunder of ocean waves. The manifestation of Shissar vanished, and Talsy looked at her arm, where only a narrow white scar remained.
Jashon started forward again. 'Why the hell did he do that? You didn't wish for it!' He glared at her.
Chanter turned his head to gaze at the red-faced doctor with expressionless eyes. 'Clan bond.'
'Clan…' Jashon spluttered into silence.
Tranton tugged on his arm. 'Why don't we go and tell the governor of your great success. I'm sure he'll be delighted.'
Jashon allowed Tranton to lead him away, and Talsy looked up at Chanter again. 'Thank you.'
He smiled. 'You kept your promise.'
'As did you.'
'It was your Wish.'
A slither of fear chilled her gut. 'Is it fulfilled now?'
Chanter gazed at her, looking puzzled, as if she was a strange creature he did not understand, but something prompted him to try a little longer.
'No. You suffered harm and fled to save yourself. I was merely a distraction. I tried to protect you, and failed. The Wish is not yet fulfilled.'
She sighed with relief. 'I'm sorry… about what you went through.'
He picked up his jacket from the table beside him and shrugged it on. 'It's over now. Already the memory dims.'
'Do Mujar have such a short memory?'
Chanter bent to pull on his boots, which he had found under the table. 'When it comes to unpleasant things, yes.'
Talsy took his hand and headed for the door. 'Let's leave this awful place.'
Several doctors stepped into their path, and one said, 'The Mujar can't leave. He'll escape.'
Chanter hung back, frowning at them. Clearly he would not allow anyone except Talsy near him now, and she did not blame him. She glared at them.
'He's granted the Wish and he'll fulfil it. Unlike you, he has honour. You think that standing in his way will stop him if he really wants to leave? Get out of the way!'
They parted, and she led Chanter into the street. The doctors followed, and the Mujar eyed them warily. The men served as a barrier between Chanter and the populace, which turned out to be just as well. Soon, pedestrians recognised a Mujar and shouted insults, waving their fists. Some tried to get at Chanter, but the doctors fended off the crowd until guardsmen arrived, drawn by the commotion. Chanter scanned the skyline while Talsy clung to his hand, afraid that he would turn into a bird to escape the threat. He pointed at a roofed wooden platform atop tall a grey stone tower.
'We'll go there.'
The doctors explained the situation to the guardsmen, clearly concerned about the Mujar's safety. At their request, the troops formed a cordon around Chanter and Talsy to protect them from the angry mob. A few people threw rotten fruit and dung while the rest shouted insults. Chanter headed for the tower, the soldiers and doctors who surrounded him shooting him hateful looks. Talsy ducked the missiles, and the doctors shielded them from most of it, their robes becoming splattered with dung. They shouted in protest, but the guardsmen could do little to stem the filthy barrage. The gate guard at the base of the tower let them in, and the guardsmen stayed outside to keep the mob at bay.
Talsy followed Chanter up a spiral stairway, her legs aching by the time they reached the top. The tower afforded a panoramic view of the city and the land beyond the walls.
A lookout scowled at them. 'What are you doing here?' His eyes narrowed when he spotted Chanter, and he
