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Blaine shook his head. "I can make it." He would make it down the stairs by himself, or with someone else's help. Blaine would have taken anyone's help in the house before Konrad Burn's, right now.
Konrad nudged the door open and walked out with Elaine in his arms. He never glanced back or asked again whether Blaine needed help. Blaine had said no. It would never occur to Konrad it might not be true.
Blaine levered himself up from the chair, hopping, leaning on the heavy frame. A sharp pain slapped him every time he jarred his injured leg. His arm hurt with a persistent, bone-numbing ache. A crutch with cloth wrapped around the top leaned against the wall. He grabbed it and placed it under his arm. It was his crutch, carved for his height. Monster fighting tended to be hard on a body. As Tereza said, they were all temporarily able-bodied.
Blaine hobbled out the door. Konrad and Elaine were out of sight down the stairs. He balanced a moment in the empty hallway, letting the pain in his leg subside. It hurt to stand with the leg dangling, but it hurt much more to move.
He stood, getting his breath back, preparing himself to hop down the stairs. It had been childish to refuse Konrad's help. He would pay for it in pain. But it was his pain, his privilege not to accept help from the man who made his sister's eyes flinch. He doubted Konrad even realized how Elaine felt. Blaine wasn't sure if that made things worse or better. Probably neither.
He balanced at the head of the stairs, one hand tight on the ba
Blaine hopped another step down, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. He'd make the same choice again. A slow, unreasonable anger had settled in his heart against one Konrad Burn.
FOUR
A strange man sat before the kitchen fire. His hair was white as snow, his face dominated by a yellowish beard and a beaklike nose. He smiled at Elaine, gray eyes gentle.
Elaine sat in a chair on the other side of the fire. Mala had put another cup of tea in her hands. The cook was a great believer in the restorative powers of tea.
The man was also sipping tea. A plate of cookies balanced on his knees. It was the treatment any guest would receive, except that most guests would have been seen in the parlor.
Jonathan stood in the middle of the floor, arms crossed, frowning, staring at the stranger. He stood like a guard. Apparently, the kitchen was good enough for this particular guest.
Tereza sat at the table with Konrad and Blaine. They were the audience. Whether they were here to see a real live mage or to witness what Jonathan would do in the presence of one was unclear. It was certainly going to be entertaining either way.
"I am Gersalius, a wizard. I am told you have some magic of your own, Elaine."
She glanced at Jonathan's scowling face. "I don't think of it as magic."
The mage settled back in the chair, one hand steadying the plate of cookies. "Then what do you call it?"
She shrugged. "Just visions."
"Tell me about these. . visions," Gersalius said.
Elaine sipped the hot tea, not sure what to say. "Do you want me to describe them?"
"If you like."
She narrowed her eyes, trying not to frown. Jonathan was doing enough of that for everyone. But the mage was being. . frustrating.
"What do you want of me?"
"To help you."
"How?"
"For someone who has magical abilities, you are very suspicious."
Elaine looked down. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Enough of these word games," Jonathan said. "Can you help her or not?" He stood over them like a tall, disapproving cloud.
"Mr. Ambrose, if Elaine had fallen ill and you had called in a doctor, would you be telling him how to do his job?"
"So far, you have done nothing."
Gersalius sighed. "The girl has magic powers. She sparkles to the eye that can see it."
"She has visions; that is all."
Gersalius stood, tea and cookies in hand. "If you insist on arguing with me at every point, I ca
"Good, then go," Jonathan said.
Tereza said, "Jonathan." That one word held something hard, almost threatening.
Jonathan turned to her. "He has done nothing but speak in riddles since he entered our house."
"You have not allowed him to do much of anything, Jonathan."
"Elaine is not a mage."
"Jonathan," Tereza's voice was gentle but firm, "she nearly died today. It was her vision that nearly killed her. The visions are magic of some kind. We need to know what happened."
"She is not a mage," he said.
"And if she is?" Tereza asked.
Jonathan closed his mouth with an audible snap. He turned away from them all.
Elaine huddled in the chair, the tea forgotten in her hands. Would he send her away if she were a mage? Would she be cast out of the only home she'd known?
Mala came up behind her, placing her hands on Elaine's shoulders. "You'll not be sending her away."
"If we're not wanted," Blaine said, "we can go." His voice was warm with anger. He was struggling to his feet.
"Sit down, Blaine," Konrad said. "No one is sending Elaine away." His voice was very firm when he said it.
Elaine turned in the chair to see. Konrad's green eyes were sparkling, the lines in his face tight with anger.
Would he have been this outraged over anyone's leaving, or was this especially for her? Elaine's face lit with a heat that had nothing to do with the potential loss of her home.
Tereza stood up. "Jonathan, you had better make yourself very clear on this issue."
He spread his hands wide. "Well, of course, Elaine will stay, no matter what. This is her home." But there was something in his voice that made Elaine shrink against the chair back. A hesitation, as if he had more to say but left it unspoken. If she were indeed a mage, Jonathan would never make peace with it. Not really.
She didn't want to be a mage. The visions were bad enough.
"Sit down, Gersalius," Tereza said. "Jonathan and I were just leaving so you could get on with your work."
Jonathan opened his mouth to protest. She stopped him with a small gesture. "We need to talk, Husband. And the wizard needs to see to Elaine."
She rarely called him husband. When she did, it was usually the begi
Jonathan stood very straight. "If you say so, Wife." Anger was plain in his voice.
"I say so." She left the room first, and he followed.
There was silence for a time, then Gersalius sat down and said, "Describe one of your visions for me, Elaine. Please."
Elaine sipped her tea. She didn't want to talk to the wizard. It wasn't just wanting to avoid strife. Jonathan had taught them well. Magic could be useful, but it was easily turned to evil.
"I don't want to do magic," she said softly.
Gersalius's smile widened. "Child, magic is not a choice. I have known men who wanted more than life itself to do magic but had not the talent. You ca
"I have seen people who bargained with evil things to gain magic," she said.
"That is not natural magic, Elaine. That is abomination."
"Magic is magic."
"Those are not your own words, child."
She stared down into her cup. "I don't know what you mean."
"Elaine, magic-true magic-is not intrinsically evil. It is like a sword. The steel itself has no leaning to good or evil. It is the hand that wields the sword that dictates whether it will be used for good or evil. The weapon itself is neutral."