“You understand, I do not wish to trouble the Warprize?” Amyu asked anxiously, embarrassed to be seeking reassurance.

The stone walls of Master Healer Eln’s chamber were covered in shelves, filled with bottles and jars, more than she’d ever seen in a Xyian building. She stood by the large wooden table, glancing around. It made her feel even more nervous, all these things surrounding her. She felt hemmed in. Trapped.

Master Healer Eln sat on his stool by the table, his long grey hair braided down his back. He had a calm presence, a very quiet man. The braid was unusual in a city-dweller; for Amyu, it made him seem safer somehow. Like one of the Plains.

“It’s just that she, the Warprize,” Amyu hurried on, “she has other worries right now, with her kingdom, and her new babes.”

Master Healer Eln nodded, studying her. “You want to talk, as if under the bells, correct?” he asked gently. “That’s why you came here to see me?”

“You’d think they were the first babes ever born.” Amyu reached up and pushed her brown hair behind her ear. “They are good babies, mind you, but—”

Eln snorted with amusement. “But all new mothers are like that, even Master Healers.” He paused. “But that is not why you are here.”

Amyu dropped her gaze, glad that she’d made the journey from the Castle to his shop in the City. Far more private then any tent, with stone walls and closed doors. “The Warprize has said that Xyian Healers hold words told them to their hearts, yes? Like the Singers?”

“I will tell no one what you confide in me,” Eln said softly. “And that is the second time you have asked me that, Amyu. What troubles you so?” The concern in his voice was clear, and reassuring. She looked up when he continued. “Does it have to do with...” His glance fell on her left arm.

So he knew about her lack of tattoos, of her barrenness. Knew that to her own people she was still a child and a failure. Yet still he treated her as an adult, as a person of worth. Xyians were odd that way. It felt so strange, and yet, so wonderful at the same time.

“No, it’s not about that,” she said softly, and cursed the tears that welled up in her eyes when he just nodded, and didn’t press the matter. “It is—” Amyu tried to find the words. “Since the night of the pillar of light, I have—”

Raised voices cut through the quiet and the door to Eln’s chamber burst open. Amyu spun, her weapons in her hand.

“Wounded, Master,” an apprentice explained, holding the door open. Into the chamber rushed a group of four in the uniform of the City Guard, all talking at once, carrying an unconscious warrior face down between them. “Master Healer,” one of them grunted under his load. “Wyvern sting.”

“Here, quickly.” Eln was up, moving his stool to the side, gesturing toward the table. “Where’s the wound?”

“Lower back,” one said.

Amyu pressed herself against the shelves to make way. Jars and bottles rattled behind her. Eln called for his apprentices and the other healers.

The unconscious warrior’s lower back was a mess of torn leather armor, blood, dirt, grass, and sizzling flesh. Amyu wrinkled her nose as the stink of the poison rose from the wound. It smelled as rank as ehat musk.

“Two of the wyverns came swooping down as they rode out of the woods,” a guard explained. “Poor bastards didn’t know to watch for them. The others with her didn’t make it.”

The guards settled the warrior onto the table facedown, as gently as they could. “She’s breathing still,” one said. “We think maybe she’s from the Plains.”

Amyu sucked in a breath at that, and craned her neck to see the warrior’s face. “Eloix,” she said, recognizing the lax face. “She was with Simus of the Hawk.”

“Send word to the Warlord immediately,” Eln commanded, and one of the guards leaped to obey. “I need a few of you here,” Eln said. “In case—”

“Aye,” the oldest Guard said, nodding in understanding. “Best to be careful.” He reached over, and removed Eloix’s weapons from their sheaths.

Amyu slid toward the door, feeling in the way, but Eln stopped her with a look. “Stay.” He jerked his head into the corner near Eloix’s head. “You speak Firelander, and we don’t.”

Amyu obeyed, darting into the corner, and trying to make herself small as Eln called for supplies. “Wine,” he ordered his apprentices. “Water hasn’t worked before this. I need this armor cut away. Be careful not to let any of that venom get on you.”

There was another rattling of jars and bottles as they all moved about the room, getting into position. An older apprentice with leather gloves stepped forward, and started to peel back the shreds as another cut with a large knife. The sight of the wound got no better as the leathers and padding were removed.

The city guards were stoic, but they averted their eyes. One was having a hard time, and started to retch.

“Go,” Eln commanded and the guard released his hold on Eloix’s arm and darted for the door. “Amyu, take his place,” Eln instructed, and she did so. But even as she gripped Eloix’s wrist and shoulder Amyu couldn’t help but stare in revulsion and fascination. The bloody flesh bubbled and frothed before her eyes. She’d heard that wyvern poison ate away the flesh it touched, but she’d never seen it. She glanced at Eloix’s lax face, glad that the warrior wasn’t feeling the pain of the wound.

But that ended at the first touch of wine on her back. Eloix heaved up, half off the table, her hands clutching the edge with a white-knuckled grip. Her pained howl filled the room as hands pressed her back down.

“Skies above,” she panted, her eyes wild and unseeing as she was pressed back down on the table. “What has happened?”

“You were attacked,” Amyu spoke in the language of the Plains. “Injured by a flying beast.”

Eloix was gasping, taking in air, her eyes wild and dazed. Amyu kept talking, repeating the words as Eln worked furiously.

“Wine isn’t working, Master,” one of the apprentices said.

“We will try milk next, but only to a small area,” Eln instructed. “Keep trying the wine.”

Amyu looked down to see sanity return to Eloix’s eyes. “You,” she struggled to speak. “Child.”

“Yes.” Amyu set aside the all too familiar pain of rejection. “We have sent for the Warlord,” she said.

“We will give her something for the pain,” Eln said. “Tell her to drink it.”

Eloix blinked up at her. Her sweat-soaked hair was plastered to her skull. “What kind of wound is this?” she gasped out.

Amyu took the small bottle from the apprentice. “A sting, from a creature they call a wyvern.”

Eloix’s breathing came in harsh pants. “How bad?”

“Bad,” Amyu said. “This potion he offers you will take away the pain.”

“And my wits?” Eloix asked, taking the bottle.

“Probably,” Amyu said honestly.

“No, then.” Eloix took a breath, her face contorted, her voice shaking with strain. “These city-dwellers are soft. We are of the Plains. Give me the truth, child.”

“As you request,” Amyu said in their language as Eln and his people worked around her and Eloix. “It is said that the poison of the beast eats the flesh. The Warprize has told me that they have not found a way to heal it.”

“He can’t cure it?” Eloix drew in air between clenched teeth.

“The cure has been to cut off the struck limb.” Amyu felt her own voice quake. “But you were struck in the back.”

Eloix panted and rested her forehead on the rough wood of the table. “Is there an adult of the Plains near that I can give my message?”

She was so used to being dismissed as a child, Amyu wasn’t even surprised. “Eln sent word to the Castle, but there may not be enough time.” She tightened her grip on Eloix’s sweaty arm. “I swear that I will deliver the words you speak, and I will see that your rites are done properly, by a warrior of the Plains.”

Eln swore under his breath, and Amyu glanced over in time to see the despair on his face. He caught her looking, and scowled. “Have her drink,” he ordered.

“She will not,” Amyu said in Xyian. “She has messages to deliver.”

“She will when it gets bad enough.” Eln turned back to his work.

Eloix took the bottle, and gripped it tightly. “He forgets,” she snorted. “I speak Xyian.”

“If I try to grant you mercy, they will try to stop me,” Amyu said. “It is their way.” She loosened her hold on Eloix’s wrists for a moment. “There is a dagger on my belt.”

“When I have given you Simus’s words,” Eloix said through clenched teeth. She coughed wetly, and spit. There were flecks of blood on her lips as she started to speak. “I hold you to your oath, child. Listen well. On the morning of the night of the pillar of fire,” she began, panting between words. “The warrior-priests drove us from the Heart...”

Amyu listened carefully, as Eloix recited Simus’s message to Keir. She focused on those painful words, ignoring the sounds around her. Of sizzling flesh, and frustrated healers.

Toward the end of her message, Eloix let out a surprised gasp. “The pain. I can’t feel—”

Eln lifted his head, his eyes so stark and so old. The healers around him all paused in their efforts, moving back. The guards paused, confused.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Eloix finished in Xyian.

“Yes.” Eln’s voice was little more than a croak. “It’s eaten through—” He swallowed hard. “Are you in pain?”

“It’s harder to breathe,” Eloix said, more cough than voice.

“It’s working toward the lungs.” Eln sounded harder now. “If you understand me, know that I am not stupid. I would ask, before you—” He stopped, his jaw working.

“Snows,” Amyu said. “We say she is going to the snows.”

“I know,” Eln snapped and Amyu almost stepped back at the rage in his voice. The apprentices flinched, glancing at one another.

“Clear the room,” Eln commanded, and the guards and apprentices bowed their heads and left, some murmuring soft prayers.

“Amyu stays,” Eloix demanded, grabbing her wrist.

“I know what she will do,” Eln repeated, his voice filled with sorrow. “I would ask that she let me try one more thing on the wound, before—”

“Yes,” Eloix said, coughing. “Try what you will.”

Eln didn’t hesitate. He reached for a large basket on a top shelf and pulled out a handful of bloodmoss. Amyu watched as he took the plant and placed it on the edge of the wound, where the poison still glistened.

The pale yellow leaves curled, turned brown, and crumbled into dust. Eln stared at it, and then closed his eyes.

“He is finished,” Amyu whispered.

“The fire warmed me,” Eloix choked out the beginning of the ritual. “I thank the elements.”

Amyu released her hold, pulled her dagger, and placed it in Eloix’s hand. Eloix gripped it tightly, her fingers bone-white. Eln had stepped back from the table, his face buried in his hands.

“The earth supported me. I thank the elements,” Eloix said, but started coughing, bringing up blood. She struggled to continue.

Amyu knelt by the table, shaking inside, but striving to be the warrior Eloix needed her to be. “The waters sustained you,” Amyu picked up where Eloix had left off. “We thank the elements.”

Eloix’s eyes were wide, focused on Amyu, but unseeing. She nodded as she choked, and placed the tip of the dagger at her throat.

“The air filled you. We thank the elements.” Amyu’s voice shook despite her best efforts. “Go now, warrior. Beyond the snows and to the stars.”

Eloix thrust the dagger home.

And for long moments both Amyu and Eln stood silent as the last breath of life left her body.

Eln finally moved, striding over to jerk open the door. The guards outside came to attention.

“Amyu carries a message for the Queen and Warlord,” Eln’s voice rasped. “See her to the Castle.”