“I would like to begin immediately,” Kjell said abruptly.
Sasha smiled, nodding, and he realized she misunderstood. He shook his head, correcting her assumption.
“The vials and potions can wait. The books as well. I want to know which gifts exist in Caarn.”
He needed to find another Healer.
They began their query in the Great Hall, but quickly discovered the foolishness of the idea and retired to a clearing at the wood’s edge. The Gifted were destructive. The edict had gone out—passing from mouth to mouth and ear to ear—that King Aren and Queen Saoirse were in search of rare gifts, and for an entire day the clearing was filled with both the curious and the brave. People were slow to come forward, afraid of laughter or scorn, but with a little reassurance from the king and kind pleading from the queen, the Gifted began to show themselves.
Kjell stood to the side, his hand on his sword, his eyes on the gathering, letting the king and queen conduct the quest. He kept close enough to observe and far enough away not to obstruct. The king was fascinated by the demonstrations and displays, laughing and clapping his hands in appreciation of every effort, big or small.
And some were very small.
A woman who had come to Caarn from another village in Dendar could make herself the size of a caterpillar. Her husband raised her proudly in the palm of his hand for them all to see before setting her back down so she could resume her size.
One of the young maids who had come from Jeru, a woman they called Tess, had a hidden gift as well. Sasha questioned her in surprise, asking her why she had not shared her ability sooner. Tess shrugged and worried her hands.
“It’s a silly gift, Majesty,” she said. She chewed her nail, caught herself, and shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her long apron.
“All gifts are welcome,” Sasha urged.
“I can call water,” she admitted.
“From the skies?” the king asked, surprised. Such a gift would be powerful indeed.
“Perhaps. I haven’t tried very hard. There was never a need before. It is easier to call the water beneath my feet.”
“Can you show us?” the king pressed.
Tess stepped out of her shoes and woolen socks and lifted her skirts to her knees. The assembly watched as the dirt around her bare toes became increasingly damp, growing in an ever-widening pool.
“My mother would slap me when I was small. She thought I . . . she thought I was wetting myself,” she said in a rush. “I would think of water, and it would just . . . rise. I’ve gotten better at controlling it.” The little maid turned red. “I know where to dig the wells, where the water is fresh, and where it will quickly run dry,” she added. “Maybe that could be of use?”
“Such a gift would have been greatly appreciated in a place I once lived,” Sasha said quietly. Her eyes found Kjell’s before shifting away.
A man named Gaspar, who had come from outside of Caarn and sought work in the castle guard, stepped forward next. He was quiet and competent, always willing to do whatever was asked of him.
“I cannot change . . . but my eyes can,” he said simply. With no further explanation, his eyes became elongated, the irises yellow, and the pupils tall and oddly-shaped, like those of a feline. “I can see in the dark. It makes me a good hunter, a good watchman.” He looked expectantly at Kjell as he spoke, clearly eager to share his skill where it would be most appreciated.
“Tell Lieutenant Jerick. You will take the darkest shift,” Kjell called out. The man nodded, pleased, and the demonstrations continued.
Emboldened by the cat-eyed watchman, a few others came forward, shyly displaying talons, tails, spikes, and gills. The changes exhibited were small, partial, and specific, and none of the people who stepped forward could change entirely. The queen nodded encouragingly.
“There were Changers like that in Quondoon. Surely there is a use for your gifts here in Caarn.”
“I can change,” a man spoke from the crowd. “But not on land.”
“Completely?” the king pressed.
“Yes, Majesty. When I am in the water I can become any sea creature I wish.”
“How much water do you need?” Kjell said, raising his voice above the murmuring of the excited spectators.
The man shrugged. “It depends on the size of the creature I become.”
Kjell looked to Tess. “Can you make a pool for the Sea Changer?”
Tess stepped forward eagerly, hiking her skirts once more, and the water grew around her, a muddy patch that quickly became a large puddle.
The man asked the ladies to avert their eyes. None of them did. He shrugged, indifferent, and began to remove his clothes. The crowd gasped. Very few of them knew what Changing entailed.
“Have you ever seen a fish wearing a tunic?” the man asked with a smirk. “When I shift, my clothes fall off, and I’d rather not get them wet.” A few of the gathered villagers turned their heads, mortified, but most watched as, with an audible plop, the man became a small orange fish, not much bigger than the palm of Kjell’s hand. He swam in circles in the murky water before flopping on the ground beside the puddle and morphing back into a man. He calmly clothed his nakedness, a bit of mud smeared across his cheek.
A child of twelve or thirteen, a boy named Dev with green eyes and hair almost as red as Sasha’s, made the wind gust around them, whipping at the queen’s hair and parting the king’s beard.
“That’s a gift, isn’t it Highness?” his mother asked, unsure. “He’s a Tree Spinner too, but he spins like a storm. When he spins into a tree, he knocks the leaves off all the branches around him.”
“It is indeed a gift,” the king reassured as the boy sent a happy breeze through the uppermost boughs of the nearby trees.
A woman introduced her husband, Boom, claiming he was a special kind of Teller.
“I speak for him because his voice is so loud, it’ll make your ears bleed,” the woman explained. “That’s why we call him Boom. Even when he whispers it’s too much. He talks with his hands or writes on a slate to communicate most of the time.”
The man had a chest cavity like a lion and ears like a mole, as though the sound of his voice made his own head ache. Boom walked into the trees, putting a hundred feet between the gathering and himself. When he opened his mouth and said “good day,” the sound reverberated like a gong, and everyone assembled clapped their hands over their ears in pain.
The king asked Boom to walk to the borders of Caarn and try once more. He did so, his voice cutting across the distance clear and bold and decidedly less painful to endure. The king declared him the castle crier, charged with relaying royal messages throughout the valley, and the man found himself suddenly employed.
The gifts were odd and assorted, and more plentiful than Kjell had hoped. But as the day unfolded, no Healers revealed themselves. The gift of the Healer is the easiest to deny. He needed Gwyn of Jeru, the old Seer who could sense abilities in others, but he feared discovering a good diviner might be even harder than uncovering another Healer.
As the sun began to sink behind the trees of Caarn, the crowd thinned and the sharing of talents ebbed. The night watch began their rounds, the king and queen returned to the castle, and the gates to the keep were lowered. Kjell retired to his small quarters in the garrison and opened the book that belonged to another Healer of Caarn, a woman he’d never known. Painstakingly, he began to read, to peruse the pages, hoping to find answers to questions he’d never asked before.
Who were you?
Who am I?
How did you find the strength to leave?
***