Daughter of Witches: A Lyra Novel by Patricia Collins Wrede Page A

for you, or they’ll catch you again, soon as they start hunting.”
    Dizziness overwhelmed Ranira as she tried to stand, and she put out a shaking hand to steady herself. From miles away she heard Shandy’s exclamation. “Renra! What’s the matter with you?”
    Ranira fought to think clearly. “They gave me some kind of drug,” she said hazily. “I don’t know how long it will last. I think someone said it could be permanent.” Memory swam up out of the shifting cloud that threatened to engulf her: silver light turning yellow, and a voice murmuring. “Mist. Did she get away?”
    “What?” Shandy looked confused, then began tugging at her hand determinedly. “Come on, Renra. We got to get out of here. You can tell me about the mist later.”
    “No!” She jerked back. “Mist is the foreign woman, the one in the short veil. She can heal; I saw her. Did she get away too? You have to find her, Shandy. She can heal.”
    “I told you those foreigners would be trouble. Why do you want to find a bunch of witches? This way. Duck your head; you’re too tall.”
    “They can heal! Will you find them?” Ranira asked, clinging desperately to her fading lucidity. “Mist and Jaren and Arelnath. Will you?”
    “All right,” Shandy said. “But not now. Come on, Renra!”
    Mental tension flowed out of her like a sigh. As she relaxed back into the drugged fog, she tried to murmur her thanks, but she could not even be certain she had spoken. Part of her was still aware of the awkward scrambling over broken pavement and the twisting route that Shandy followed, but most of her mind was in a pleasant stupor.
    Shandy was talking to her. He seemed to want a response. “Shandy?” she said tentatively.
    “Ah, Renra,” he said disgustedly, “You didn’t even hear. You have to climb over that wall. I’ll help. You understand?”
    She looked doubtfully at the high wall of crumbling bricks that stretched from one side of the alley to the other, but she nodded. Shandy pushed at her. “Go on!” Dutifully, Ranira stepped forward.
    Climbing the wall was almost as difficult as crawling through the tunnel had been. Though her skirts were now in rags, they still hampered her movement, and her thin slippers slid treacherously on the ancient brick. Twice she slipped back when one of her handholds broke free of the wall. At last she reached the top. She was too tired to climb down, and it looked like an uncomfortably long drop. She was still sitting there when Shandy popped up beside her.
    “You crazy? Anybody looks down this way, they’ll see you for sure. Get down, Renra!” The boy followed his own advice immediately, swinging down to the ground with the ease of long practice. She blinked at him for a moment, then slid her feet over the side of the wall.
    The drug was still distorting her perceptions; and she was not prepared for the wrenching drop from sitting atop the wall to hanging from her hands. She grabbed in panic as she realized her mistake. Her hands slid along the brick, scraping the skin painfully. She missed the hold she was reaching for and slipped from the top of the wall to land in a crumpled heap on the other side.
    Shandy was beside her immediately, wanting to know if she was all right. Ranira shifted and started to respond, but a stabbing pain in her right leg made her bite back a scream and shake her head instead. Shandy stood over her, frowning.
    “Can’t you walk, Renra? If you rest for a while? The Templemen don’t know about this place, but if they really start hunting…” The boy’s voice trailed off.
    Even drugged, Ranira knew what a full Temple search would mean. Again, she tried to move, and almost fainted. “No,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I can’t. You have to find Mist, Shandy. She can heal. She could do something.”
    “That witch you were talking about?” Shandy shook his head. “But the Temple will catch us right away if we use magic! And it’ll take all day just to find her.