I perched on the edge of his wide desk. Small writing tools and piles of papers rested on the top in an organized arrangement. A white seashell appeared to be his only decoration. Sitting across from me, Bain wore a deep purple robe that drank in the light. His diverse collection of robes amazed me. So far, he was the only magician I’d seen that wore a formal robe on a daily basis.
“We are a class,” he said. “There can be up to four students, but no more. You will not see rows upon rows of students listening to a lecturer in this school. We teach using hands-on learning and small groups.”
“How many students does each mentor have?”
“No more than four for those who have experience. Only one for the new magicians.”
“How many do the Master Magicians teach?” I was dreading the day when I would have to share Irys.
“Ah…” He paused. For once Bain seemed at a loss for words. “The Masters do not mentor students. We are needed in Council meetings. We aid Sitia. We recruit prospective students. But occasionally a student comes along that piques our interest.”
He gazed at me as if deciding how much he should tell me. “I have grown weary of Council meetings. So I have transferred all my energies to teaching. This year I have two students. Roze has chosen only one since she became First Magician. Zitora has none. She is adjusting; she only became a Master last year.”
“And Irys?”
“You’re her first.”
“Just me?” I asked in amazement.
He nodded.
“You said Roze chose one. Who?”
“Your brother, Leif.”
Evidence that the Keep prepared for an invasion of returning students mounted as the week progressed. Servants scurried to air out rooms and dorms. The kitchen buzzed with activity as the staff prepared for the feast. Even the Citadel’s streets hummed with life as residents returned. In the evenings, laughter and music floated on the cooling air.
As I waited for Irys to return from fetching Tula’s sister, I spent my mornings with Bain, my afternoons studying and my evenings with Cahil and Kiki. My riding had advanced from walking Kiki to trotting, a bone-jarring gait that left me stiff and sore at the end of the day.
Every night I sat with Tula, connecting with her and lending her my support. Her mind remained vacant, but her brutalized body healed by leaps and bounds.
“Do you have healing powers?” Hayes asked me one night. “Her physical progress has been amazing. More like the work of two healers.”
I considered his question. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“Perhaps you’ve been helping her heal without realizing it. Would you like to find out?”
“I don’t want to hurt her,” I said, remembering my failed attempts to move a chair.
“I won’t let you.” Hayes smiled as he picked up Tula’s left hand. The splints on her right hand were gone, but the fingers on her left were still swollen and bruised. “I have only enough energy to mend a few bones a day. Usually we let the body heal on its own. But for serious injuries, we speed up the process.”
“How?”
“I draw power to me. Then I focus on the injury. Skin and muscles disappear before my eyes, revealing the bones. I use the power to encourage the bone to mend. It works the same for other injuries. My eyes will only see the wound. It is truly wonderful.”
Hayes’s eyes glowed with purpose, but when they shifted to Tula they dimmed. “Unfortunately, some injuries just can’t be healed, and the mind is so complex that any damage is usually permanent. We have a few mind healers. Fourth Magician is the strongest of these, but even she can only do so much.”
As Hayes focused on Tula, I felt the air around me thicken and pulsate. Drawing a breath became an effort. Then Hayes closed his eyes. Without thinking, I linked my mind with his. Through him I saw Tula’s hand. Her skin became translucent, showing the battered pink fibrous muscles attached to the bones. I saw strands of power, thin as spiderwebs, wrapped around Hayes’s hands. He wove the webs around the crack in Tula’s bone. As I watched, the crack disappeared and then the muscles healed.
I broke the mental connection to Hayes and looked at Tula. The bruises had faded from her now straight index finger. The air thinned as the power faded. His forehead shone with sweat and his breath puffed from the effort he’d just expended.
“Now, you try,” he said.
I moved closer to Tula and took her hand from Hayes. Holding her middle finger, I rubbed it lightly with my thumb as I pulled power to me, revealing the bone. Hayes gasped. I paused.
“Go on,” he said.
My strands of power were rope thick. When I applied the strands to the bone, they wrapped around it like a noose. I pulled back, fearing her finger would snap in half.
Placing her hand back on the bed, I looked at Hayes. “Sorry. I don’t have full control of my magic yet.”
He stared at Tula’s hand. “Look.”
Both fingers appeared to have been healed.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Using magic usually left me tired, but I really hadn’t used any. Or had I? “About the same.”
“Three healings and I need to nap.” Hayes shook his head. His dark hair fell into his eyes. He swiped his bangs back with an impatient hand. “You just mended a bone effortlessly. Fate be with us,” he said. Awe and fear roughened his voice. “Once you have full control, you may be able to wake the dead.”
Fear surged through me, leaving my muscles trembling.
“No,” I said to Hayes. “You must be mistaken. No one can wake the dead.”
Hayes rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, reconsidering.
“Perhaps I spoke rashly,” he agreed. “Only one person in our history could revive the dead.” He shuddered. “And the results were truly horrible.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but Hayes bolted toward the door, insisting he had work to do.
Feeling odd and unsettled, I peered at Tula’s motionless form. Through her blanket and skin, I could see each of her injuries. It seemed now that I had learned this new ability, I couldn’t turn it off. The fractures, sprains, bruises all pulsed with an urgent red light. The more I studied the light the more it drew my mind in, and I felt Tula’s physical pain soak into me. In sudden agony, I collapsed onto the floor.
Curling into a ball, I squeezed my eyes shut. A small part of me knew the pain was imaginary, but, in panic, I still tried to push the torment away. I pulled power from the source. Magic filled me. The buildup crackled across my skin like fire. I released the power.
My scream resounded through the room as cool relief swept through me, quenching my pain. Drained of energy, I remained on the floor, panting.
“Yelena, are you all right?”
I opened my eyes. Hayes hovered over me in concern. I nodded. “Tula?”
He left my side. “She’s fine.”
I sat up. The room spun for a moment but I forced myself to focus.
“What happened?” Hayes asked.
I wanted to say that I had lost control, to explain that my old survival instincts had kicked in, reacting to the pain without conscious thought. But it hadn’t felt quite like that, and to admit that I had lost control would be dangerous. Uncontrolled magicians could damage the power source and the Masters would be forced to kill me. Instead, I clamped my lips together, trying to bring some order to my jumbled thoughts.
Before I could speak, Hayes said, “You healed her other two fingers.”
He stood next to Tula’s bed, and held her left hand up. Hayes inspected her fingers before laying her arm
