Down in the cellar, Brianda leant against the casks and resisted the urge to weep. The pain raging through her swollen knee and ankle made it impossible for her to stand…and Raomar had not returned.

  With nothing to see in the darkness, she closed her eyes, listening for any sound that would let her know her companions had made it back. Instead, she heard the soft shuffle of strange footsteps and the clunk of a tray being set on a table.

  Meal time, she thought resignedly, and wondered if it would do any good to call out.

  Before she could, however, another voice rang out in the shadows.

  “Hello?” a man called. “Hello?”

  He gave a worried grunt, and Brianda heard his footsteps, again. She swallowed, hurriedly, moistening her throat to reply, before he left. As she did, she registered the footsteps were growing clearer and not more distant, and stifled a sigh of relief.

  The door to their quarters creaked, making her smile. Raomar had been happy to leave it unreported and unoiled.

  “It’ll warn us of intruders,” he’d said, making Brianda wonder what kind of intruders he expected to come from the cellar.

  Like I need to ask, she’d thought, remembering countless tales where an inn or a temple had been raided by intruders digging their way up from below. It hadn’t been a comforting thought.

  The footsteps grew louder, moving from their small common room and into the cellar.

  “Hello?” the man called, again. “I’ve brought your meal… And news.”

  He hesitated, then continued worriedly, “Is anyone there?”

  “Here!” Brianda called, coughing when her voice came out as a croak. Clearing her throat, she was about to try again, when she heard hurried steps moving toward her. Lamplight bobbed at the end of the racks, and the man called out, again.

  “Hello?”

  Brianda tried to pull herself to her feet, but her injured leg wouldn’t hold and she dropped back down, whimpering.

  “Hello?” the man called. “Where are you?”

  This time when she tried to reply, her voice worked.

  “Here!” she called back, trying to ignore how weak she sounded.

  “Where?”

  Brianda eyed the light, calculating how far away he was.

  “Third row from your left…I think,” she called. “Or…is it your right…”

  Her voice faded, but the light bobbed a few cautious steps closer.

  “Why don’t you come out?”

  Brianda sighed, and tried, once more, to get to her feet. She made it up, but when she tried to take a step toward him, her leg gave way and pain shot through her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, as her pained outburst died to echoes.

  The stupidity of that drew a chuckle from her chest.

  “Do I sound all right?” she snapped, if only to get control of her unruly temper. Taking a breath, she added, “I’ve hurt my leg.”

  She heard a couple of hurried steps, and then he called out again.

  “Where are your friends? Why don’t they help you?”

  “Our friends upstairs called for help,” Brianda replied.

  She couldn’t blame him for his caution, and made a note that Raomar wasn’t the only paranoid one around.

  “I was hurt, so I told them to go on ahead.”

  Again, she pulled herself to her feet, this time keeping her weight on the barrels as she tried to move toward him. It was hard going, and her arms ached with the effort, but she managed one step, then two, before her leg gave out again and sent her crashing to the floor.

  At least I remembered to curse in elvish, she thought, relieved when he called out in response.

  “Stay there. I’m coming.”

  Brianda didn’t bother trying to hold back the bitter laugh that rose to her lips.

  What else does he think I’d do? she wondered, resting her head against the cask beside her.

  Her leg burnt where it had caught between the casks, and the cold cellar floor was rapidly numbing her through. She fought to catch her breath, listening to the pad of his soft-soled boots over the flagstones. When they got close enough, she gathered herself in another attempt to get to her feet.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  She had braced both hands against the cask, and was getting ready to push herself off the floor when he appeared at the end of the aisle.

  “Over here,” she managed, resting her back against the casks and waving him toward her.

  He hurried forward. “Hold on; I’m coming.”

  Brianda nodded, not lowering herself back to the ground, but propping herself, half-upright, as he came. As she expected, he was a priest, wearing the robes of Staravan. What she hadn’t expected from a priest was the lean muscular build…and the tan, as if he spent much of his time out of doors or on the road.

  Nor had she expected for him to take one look at her and sweep her into his arms, before turning back toward the temple proper.

  “Hey!” she managed, after sputtering with indignation. When he didn’t reply, she slapped him on the chest and repeated herself. “Hey! Put me down!”

  He looked down at her, his expression becoming chagrined when he registered her annoyance.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, stopping and setting her gently on her feet, but even that was enough to make her gasp as her leg gave way.

  She clutched at his arm, and he caught her hand, sliding one arm around her waist to stop her falling.

  “Now you see why I carried you,” he said sternly, sounding impatient.

  Brianda blushed, both at the reprimand, and at being so weak.

  “I… That is, you startled me,” she managed, adding tartly, “And I prefer to walk without your help.

  He gave an impatient sigh.

  “Very well…although carrying you would be much quicker.”

  “You’ll have to be patient then,” she retorted, carefully adding, “I’m not used to having someone carry me.”

  The priest snorted, his lips twitching into a smile.

  “As you wish,” he conceded, letting her wind an arm around his waist, and carefully supporting her all the way back to the common room she shared with Ghost, Raomar and Grunwol.

  He didn’t say anything more until he’d settled her at the table. Ignoring the meal set there, he swiveled her chair to face him, and knelt to examine her injured leg.

  At first, Brianda tensed, but he carefully positioned her leg and began to inspect it. She was about to relax, when he took a knife from his belt, and she froze, starting back in the chair.

  The priest paused, leaving the blade in its sheath.

  “I have to cut the seam,” he said, giving her an impatient look, and pointing to her injured, trouser-covered knee. “I’ll replace them from the temple stores.”

  Brianda forced herself to relax. “Okay.”

  The priest studied her, then sighed.

  “I can call for one of the priestesses,” he told her, “If you’d rather.”

  She shook her head.

  “No, it’s all right.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” He drew the knife, then very carefully cut the outer seam of her breeches from ankle to thigh.

  When the injury was uncovered, he pursed his lips, studying the purple discoloration pooling around her ankle and knee, and the myriad bruises in between.

  “What did you do?”

  “I tripped and got it wedged between two casks,” Brianda deadpanned in reply.

  His eyes darted to her face as though checking to see if she was making fun of him.

  “Tripped and…” His eyes narrowed. “How did you manage to wedge it between two casks?”

  “I was walking along the top of one of the racks, when Grunwol jumped me, and…” She let her voice trail off at the expression on his face. “What?”

  The priest didn’t answer straight away, but continued to stare at her for another long moment, before he sighed.

  “All right, I won’t ask. What you and the north man were doing on top of the casks, is none of my business.” He turned back to her knee. “Fixing the damage you caused yourself, on the other hand…”

  Carefully cupping her knee in one hand, he grasped the amulet at his throat with the other. He opened his mouth to say something, and stopped.

  “Uh…You don’t mind me praying over it, do you?”

  Brianda looked at him in surprise. Why would anyone mind the touch of a priest?

  It did no harm, and it healed, relieved pain, and cured sickness. Who cared what god supplied the power?

  “No…” she managed. “Why would I?”

  The priest shrugged.

  “Some would object if the deity differs from their own. Just to be clear, I will be asking for Staravan’s gift to heal you.”

  “Staravan, Miralei, Sophriel,” Brianda shot back. “It doesn’t matter who, as long as the pain goes away.”

  That drew a soft snort of laughter and a small smile.

  “Good,” the priest said, bowing his head, gripping the amulet anew.

  The prayer that followed was simple, it’s language stronger than the language of magic, sweeter almost. Brianda listened, letting the sound of it flow over her as Staravan granted the priest’s request, and a soft amber light grew around his hand.

  Warmth followed, and Brianda gasped, feeling it radiate out from his hand and into her knee. Glancing down, she watched the amber light shift to gold and spread, following the warmth of Staravan’s healing as it spread from her knee to her calf and shin, and down to her ankle.

  Even when his words were done, the priest retained his grip on both knee and amulet, and the magic continued to flow. Brianda watched it, noticing the pain recede, as the glow spread.

  They sat in silence until it faded, and the priest let go of her knee and sat back on his haunches looking tired.

  “It’s done,” he said, after a moment. “Where did you say your friends went?”

  “They were asked to come to the mages’ quarters,” Brianda replied. “Zarine called for help.”

  The priest scrambled to his feet. “Then I should find them and make sure they are all right.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Brianda stated, accepting the priest’s hand as he offered it in assistance. “I’m sorry about the meal.”

  He smiled gently. “The meal can wait until we’re sure your friends are safe, although what could threaten them in the temple, I do not know.”

  “Best we find out, soon, then,” Brianda said firmly.

  They returned quickly to the quarters she shared with the others, the smell of her meal making her mouth water as she passed.

  They reached the mages’ quarters in time to see Ruranith bidding a priestess in pale yellow robes goodbye. The shapeshifter gave them a sharp-eyed glance as he passed, and Brianda returned it, sure the strange mage had had something to do with Zarine’s alarm.

  Beyond him, Raomar, Grunwol, Varan and Sindra stood watchful and silent.

  “We will consult the gods on this matter,” the priestess stated sternly. “They must needs have their say.”

  “Thank you,” the strange mage replied. “Now, is the High Priest free?”

  The priestess snorted.

  “He’s been waiting for you, ever since he saw you slide through the orchard,” she replied, sounding amused.

  The mage’s cheeks colored, and he murmured a hurried thanks before hurrying through the door, sidestepping Brianda and her escort as he went. The priestess watched him go, her gaze alighting on the newly arrived pair.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “She is one of mine,” Raomar hastened to interrupt. “We’ve been waiting for her arrival.”

  “Very well.” The priestess nodded. “Remember, tonight, at the temple hall. I shall send Uravan and Lenick to collect you.”