“Pretty lady, yes. Pretty lady.” He puckered his lips comically. “Kiss me, pretty lady. Kiss me.” The bird thrust its head toward the bars, opening its beak, as Reikos darted back before it bit his lip off. “Damn bird,” he muttered softly, then turned back to Sian. “You see? My heart belongs to no one but yourself.”
“All right, I believe you now. About the bird,” she conceded, reaching out to pluck an oyster shell from the platter and tip it into her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she said, reaching for another.
She very quickly polished off the plate as Reikos watched in guarded amazement, then wiped delicately at her lips with a corner of her sleeve, not quite meeting his eyes.
“You are very hungry, to have had such a late dinner last night, perhaps?” Reikos asked, his voice hesitant.
“I had no dinner.”
“What has happened?”
“I … don’t really understand it.” There was no easy way into any of this. “I fear I may be going mad. Or perhaps I have been given some horrible power. But why?” Sian shook her head, still trying to make sense of what had happened with the street urchin.
“My lady, surely I would know by now if you were capable of madness.”
“Konstantin, I touched a badly wounded boy … and healed him. I think.”
Reikos shook his head, bemused, still smiling. “What do you mean? You helped a boy?”
“I mean I healed a gaping wound. Just by touching it.” Sian shivered. “I’m terrified.”
“Healing is a good thing, is it not?” He was not understanding her; that much was obvious.
“Of course it is. But this isn’t — natural! I don’t know what’s going on, why it’s happening.”
“Tell me everything,” he said again, clearly confused. “From the start. Something happened last night?”
“Well, it started then. I was on my way to the business dinner I wrote you about. But I never got there.” She told him the whole story, just as she had explained to Maleen, adding the new element of the healing, and the crowd’s frightening attention immediately afterwards.
“I don’t know what any of this means,” she said, when she had finished. “It’s obviously connected. But there was no message! This madman just beat me, set me adrift, and … here I am, unwounded, but with this terrible curse.”
“I would like to see this … curse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you heal this?” Reikos held up his left thumb, blackened halfway up the nail. Sian remembered him complaining of the injury; he’d hit it with a hammer, repairing some rigging. He would likely lose the nail.
“I don’t really know how this works,” Sian protested, suddenly reluctant.
“Then what is the harm?” He held his hand toward her. Behind him, the cockatiel quark ed at her, then shuffled about its cage, tossing seeds. “ Damn bird. ”
More afraid than she was willing to admit to herself, Sian gently grasped his thumb, thinking about the old injury, how much it must still hurt him. An answering pain appeared in her own left thumb, accompanied once more by the smell of ginger — more subtle than it had been in the street, but still unmistakable, as if ginger tea were brewing nearby. Startled, she let go of his thumb.
He gazed at it, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with wonder. There was no purplish stain, no unevenness on the nail bed. In a moment, her own thumb stopped hurting as well.
“Oh, my,” he murmured. Then he looked at Sian, eyes still wide, now bright and excited. “Sian, this is amazing! Think of what good you can do!”
“No, Konstantin, you don’t understand! I cannot be doing this! No one can know.”
“Why ever not?”
“The priests-hospitalars would have my hide. The penalty for fraudulent healers is severe — I could be jailed until my grandchildren are married. Or worse.”
“But you are clearly not fraudulent!” He waved his thumb at her, pink and healthy. “You have been given a power, an amazing gift!”
“If you are not an
“All right, I believe you now. About the bird,” she conceded, reaching out to pluck an oyster shell from the platter and tip it into her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she said, reaching for another.
She very quickly polished off the plate as Reikos watched in guarded amazement, then wiped delicately at her lips with a corner of her sleeve, not quite meeting his eyes.
“You are very hungry, to have had such a late dinner last night, perhaps?” Reikos asked, his voice hesitant.
“I had no dinner.”
“What has happened?”
“I … don’t really understand it.” There was no easy way into any of this. “I fear I may be going mad. Or perhaps I have been given some horrible power. But why?” Sian shook her head, still trying to make sense of what had happened with the street urchin.
“My lady, surely I would know by now if you were capable of madness.”
“Konstantin, I touched a badly wounded boy … and healed him. I think.”
Reikos shook his head, bemused, still smiling. “What do you mean? You helped a boy?”
“I mean I healed a gaping wound. Just by touching it.” Sian shivered. “I’m terrified.”
“Healing is a good thing, is it not?” He was not understanding her; that much was obvious.
“Of course it is. But this isn’t — natural! I don’t know what’s going on, why it’s happening.”
“Tell me everything,” he said again, clearly confused. “From the start. Something happened last night?”
“Well, it started then. I was on my way to the business dinner I wrote you about. But I never got there.” She told him the whole story, just as she had explained to Maleen, adding the new element of the healing, and the crowd’s frightening attention immediately afterwards.
“I don’t know what any of this means,” she said, when she had finished. “It’s obviously connected. But there was no message! This madman just beat me, set me adrift, and … here I am, unwounded, but with this terrible curse.”
“I would like to see this … curse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you heal this?” Reikos held up his left thumb, blackened halfway up the nail. Sian remembered him complaining of the injury; he’d hit it with a hammer, repairing some rigging. He would likely lose the nail.
“I don’t really know how this works,” Sian protested, suddenly reluctant.
“Then what is the harm?” He held his hand toward her. Behind him, the cockatiel quark ed at her, then shuffled about its cage, tossing seeds. “ Damn bird. ”
More afraid than she was willing to admit to herself, Sian gently grasped his thumb, thinking about the old injury, how much it must still hurt him. An answering pain appeared in her own left thumb, accompanied once more by the smell of ginger — more subtle than it had been in the street, but still unmistakable, as if ginger tea were brewing nearby. Startled, she let go of his thumb.
He gazed at it, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with wonder. There was no purplish stain, no unevenness on the nail bed. In a moment, her own thumb stopped hurting as well.
“Oh, my,” he murmured. Then he looked at Sian, eyes still wide, now bright and excited. “Sian, this is amazing! Think of what good you can do!”
“No, Konstantin, you don’t understand! I cannot be doing this! No one can know.”
“Why ever not?”
“The priests-hospitalars would have my hide. The penalty for fraudulent healers is severe — I could be jailed until my grandchildren are married. Or worse.”
“But you are clearly not fraudulent!” He waved his thumb at her, pink and healthy. “You have been given a power, an amazing gift!”
“If you are not an
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