Flecks of Gold (38 page)

What if I hid in plain sight? I’d changed aspects of my body before. It wouldn’t be that difficult to do a little painless reconstructive facial surgery. I explored the lacings for individual parts of my face, thinking I would do changes on several parts. But I wasn’t sure if I could manage activating many more lacings before I would be tapped out, magically speaking. So instead, I thought of a woman’s face and tried to find a lacing for the whole of it rather than parts.

The lacing was easier to ferret out when I pictured an actual person, so I concentrated on a woman I’d seen in Boparra with a hooked nose, small kewpie doll lips, and wide, kind, gray eyes. She’d caught my eye because of her infectious laugh. It’d been hard not to join in, despite the fact that I had no idea what she was laughing about. I thought her face would be ordinary enough to be safe.

I undid the gecko and chameleon lacings then snapped the string that would transform my face into someone else’s. The lips felt strange, too small, as if I’d gotten lip liposuction. I ran my finger down the sharp ridge of my nose and across my lowered cheek bones and experienced a moment of panic. It was frightening to touch my face and feel unfamiliar curves. I quickly rechecked the lacing to make sure I could change back and took a few calming breaths. It was startling to discover that after years of bemoaning the tragedy of my facial features, I didn’t want to permanently lose a single one.

There was no way to hide my bare feet, but I did morph my tender soles so they would be as tough as thick leather. Finding my way out of the maze of alleys required that I turn around several times, but I eventually found a wide road that led me within sight of Kerln’s outer wall. I kept the imposing barrier in sight as I twisted through the streets, projecting the appearance of brisk purpose while really feeling hopelessly lost.

Eventually I found the entry gate. Backtracking through the streets, I came to the inn where Breeohan, Rafan, and I had stayed, but not before getting totally lost twice, having a terrible frozen moment when I thought a woman giving me a suspicious glare somehow saw through my new face, and discovering that my stomach had given up hope of obtaining food and decided to try eating itself instead.

The sun hid behind the mountains, casting a long cool shadow over Kerln. I held my hands stiffly at my sides to prevent nervous trembling, and I swaggered to reflect confidence as I neared the inn. A man stood outside the entry, glowering at my approach. The thought struck me that I had no money, no way to pose as a customer. I swerved away, pretending I’d intended to walk beyond the inn. After he was out of sight, I swung around and snuck into the inn’s stable. Our three horses were still in their stalls. I cringed to see that the young girl was there too. She approached me with a look of confusion, noticing, I suppose, that I didn’t have an animal with me.

“Can I help you?” she asked timidly.

“I was wondering if you had any horses for sale,” I said, thinking furiously. “I plan to check elsewhere as well, but you never know . . .”

The girl looked at the ground with an expression of guilt plain upon her face. “My mistress bid me take these three horses to the guard’s stables tomorrow, but she may be willing to sell one instead.” She indicated our three horses. My stomach dropped sickeningly.

“I could go ask her if you want.” She stepped to the door.

My hand shot out and caught her before she slipped out. “No. That’s okay. What happened to the owners of these horses?” I asked gently. She backed up, eyes wide with fear and darted a glance at the door.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise. It’s just really important for me to find out if they’re okay, and where they are.” I tried to project friendly trust and calm, praying she wouldn’t bolt. She glanced at the door again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said unconvincingly.

“Okay. That’s okay. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” I remembered her fear at our first meeting. No matter how desperate I was, I didn’t want to be responsible for getting the girl hurt. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my unfamiliar nose to prevent a headache from forming. I didn’t have energy to heal myself.

The girl’s sage green eyes regarded me. She shot a fearful look at the door but then darted forward, tugging the front of my shirt so that I would bend down.

“I don’t know where they took the lady, but the two men are tied up in a room upstairs.” She jumped quickly away and ran out the door. I slipped out after her. The dark of evening had spread, and the sky was a deep blue. It would be harder to see me with the chameleon lacing on, but I didn’t want to waste any energy unless I had to, so I circled around to the back of the inn and watched for several minutes to make sure no one was near before I ran and flattened myself against the inn’s brick sandstone. I redid the gecko lacing with a groan, wishing I could just float up to the open upper-story window. As I climbed, my arms pulsed with pain at each upward pull. Somehow, I made it to the windowsill and found the strength to heave myself through, after checking to make sure the room was empty. I slumped wearily in the dark, individual muscles twitching and cramping in a frenzied dance.

When the twitching died down, I got up and carefully walked to the door, my feet sticking and detaching as I went. I didn’t dare undo the gecko lacing in case I didn’t have the strength to activate it again. I opened the door a crack. A woman sat cross-legged in front of the door of the room Breeohan had rented for himself and Rafan. A dagger lay casually in her lap as she leaned her head against the wall. She wasn’t asleep. Her eyes roved the hallway, and I quickly stepped back before she looked my way. I closed my own eyes and used the wind lacing to snap her head forward and then back into the stone. There was a dull smack, and the woman slipped sideways on the floor. My shoulders slumped against the wall. I wanted to sit but didn’t dare in case I couldn’t make myself get up again.

Finally, when no one came to investigate the noise, I found the will to move and crept to Breeohan and Rafan’s door. It wasn’t locked. When I pushed the door open, I saw that the reason it was unlatched was because Breeohan and Rafan were gagged and tied. Breeohan lay still on his side, eyes closed. Blood matted his hair and purple bruises blossomed on almost every visible part of his skin.

Rafan groaned, opened his eyes, and looked at me with an expression of confusion. I hurried over, finally getting the hang of the strange gait required to constantly break the molecular bond my feet made as they fused to the floor.

“It’s me. Mary,” I whispered to Rafan as I untied his hands and feet. I left him to get his gag as I moved to Breeohan.

“Breeohan,” I murmured, my throat suddenly tight. Breeohan’s eyes fluttered but didn’t open, so I gently tapped an area free of discoloration on his smooth dark cheek.

“Breeohan, wake up. You need to give me permission to heal you; I don’t know how much I can do before I’ll be useless.” He winced and then slowly opened his eyes. But when he saw me, mistrust flickered on his face. I could see I’d have to waste some of my energy on changing my face back before he would trust me. I undid the mask lacing with relief, grateful to have my own features back.

“Mary,” Breeohan croaked.

“Yes. Can you heal yourself, or do you need me to do it?” He was still too dazed to speak so I moved to his ropes.

As I analyzed the tight knots, Rafan spoke. “So it is you after all, Mary. You’re always coming up with the most amazing lacing discoveries,” he said in a volume I thought too loud. I turned to urge him to whisper, but stopped when I saw the menacing triumph on his face.

“Take your hands away from Breeohan’s ropes, please.”

I gaped at him, a terrible understanding bursting through my head like the rupture of a water balloon. “You slimeball,” I spat, thinking furiously. I couldn’t heal Breeohan, but I had strength enough to do one or two more lacings. I plucked the bungee rope lacing into life, hoping that Breeohan would be able to heal himself.

“I do so love your colorful Earth language, but before we chat further, there is a little matter that must be taken care of.”

A lacing flashed behind my eyes, but it seemed to act as a shield. I could feel another lacing activated after the first one but, for once, I couldn’t discern it. Darkness cloaked my vision in a thick, clinging veil, blinding me. My hands flew up, but I couldn’t feel anything wrapped around my face. How had he done this? He shouldn’t have been able to do anything physically to me without my permission. And somehow he had cloaked the lacing behind the first so that I couldn’t undo it.

“Not to worry, Mary. You aren’t blind. The mask of darkness is purely external, though you can’t feel it,” Rafan said. “It’s not one of the most common lacings. Kelteon specializes in finding rare but useful magic. You’ll get to see him again soon. He’s almost to Kerln even now. As useful as it was to have you going to Mitigan yourself without even having to drag you there, he’s concluded that Kerln is better suited to his plans and commanded me to keep you here.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I am not who I was. Kelteon is my—” Rafan’s explanation cut off with a crack. I heard something thump to the floor. Then a lacing flashed, and the darkness cutting off my vision fled to show Breeohan crouching in front of me.

“I’m glad I knew how to undo that lacing. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” He checked me over for injuries.

“I’m all right, but what about you? Do you need me to heal you anywhere? I think I have strength for one more lacing if you need it.” I lightly brushed the back of his head, checking for the wound I’d seen earlier. We both stilled our gentle assessing at the same time.

“I healed it. Save your strength.” He caught my hand in his and lowered it between us. “Mary, I am so sorry about Rafan. I know how you felt about him,” he said in a powerful whisper of raw emotion. I pulled back, startled, hardly able to concentrate on his next words.

“I should have known something was wrong. He’s acted strangely since we met in Ismar, but I didn’t think . . .” He waved at the room around us in a staccato sweep. “I didn’t trust my feelings of misgiving because he liked you, and I . . .” He trailed off.

“What?” It was hard to keep my voice pitched low. “I’m confused. I thought you heard me telling Rafan that I didn’t like him, and that you’ve been mad at me for rejecting your friend. If anybody should be sorry it’s me. He was your friend. He’s never been anything more to me than that.”

“Is this true?” he asked breathlessly.

“I’m sorry, Breeohan. I know what it’s like to be deceived by a close friend.”

Breeohan opened his mouth but froze when we heard a scrape outside the room.

“We have to go now,” he mouthed.

I nodded and pointed to the window.

At Breeohan’s incredulous look, I leaned in close, my mouth next to his ear and breathed, “I’ll show you my gecko lacing. We’ll climb down.” He still looked confused, but he nodded. I projected the lacing for him, indicating which strings to tweak. I then had to show him how to angle his feet so they would detach from the ground. His eyes widened.

My descent from the building was anything but graceful. My arms were so tired I could only step down, move my limbs lower, then step down again hoping my sockets wouldn’t jerk too much before I was able to jab my foot toward the wall and get a new suction-like hold. I still proved to be faster than Breeohan, however, who wasn’t used to the strange angling involved in sealing and unhitching from the wall.

I collapsed to a sitting position and watched him carefully move one foot and hand at a time until he had reached the ground. He undid his lacing and then turned to pull me to my feet.

“Would it be too much to ask for you to undo my gecko lacing as well? I’ve only got juice for one more, and I should probably save it just in case. That is, if you’re not too tired,” I asked wearily.

“Of course,” he said.

We crept forward, bare feet silent in the darkest shadows cast by the sandstone buildings. Breeohan seemed to know where he was going, and I followed, happy not to have to ferret out a direction on my own. By the time he stopped us in front of a nondescript wooden door in one of the narrow alleys, I was too tired to even jump at the scuttling of a rat in front of my feet.

No light slipped out of the broken shutters above the door, so Breeohan told me to wait while he checked to see if the house was occupied. He slipped up the wall with what appeared to my envious eyes as a tireless grace and disappeared inside the window. I waited in exhausted tension, listening for a crash or scream, something that would tell me that I needed to either go in to help Breeohan or run away. But no sound emerged.

The door opened, and Breeohan gestured me in quickly. “Lie down, Mary. I’ll keep watch for awhile. You need the rest more than I do.” He shut the door behind me.

“Thank you.” I was too tired for pride. Lying down on the hard floor, I slept.

“You should have woken me,” I said to Breeohan when I opened my eyes. The sun slanted through the slats of ill-fitted shutters in two round windows near the ceiling. The rays fell in stripes across my face. I sat up to stretch, and stopped mid-stretch when I realized that none of my muscles were shrieking with the anticipated pain.