Keepers of the Flame

Alexa grinned. “Since you’re both medicas you’ll be interested. His mind and, um, soul—” she glanced at Marian, who nodded “—were transferred to a Lladranan body.”

Wow! Bri’s thought echoed Elizabeth’s. Incredible. Bri said, “I’m not a medical doctor. Elizabeth is.”

Marian raised her eyebrows, obviously back to normal. “We saw you save last night.”

“She has a unique gift of healing hands,” Elizabeth murmured.

Blinking at Bri, Marian said, “So I would postulate that you studied alternative medicine. As I studied New Age subjects.” She crossed to the other side of Alexa, and still watching the twins, held out her hand. Alexa took it. Jaquar strolled behind her to stand with the other men, rested his hands on Marian’s hips.

“Choose an end,” Alexa challenged with a smile. “You’re supposed to be here.” Then her humor faded. “Bottom line, we need you. We’re sure the Dark is sending this disease somehow and we need you to find a cure.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “It isn’t that easy.”

“We know it isn’t,” Marrec said, his accent thick. “None of the Exotiques’ tasks were easy. But they prevailed.”

“We’re sorry for your problems, but we have loving parents who will miss us in two weeks,” Bri said, lowering the cake back into the cooler.

At that moment a long lilting strum came from the door. “Sevair Masif here,” said the deep voice of the city man.

Alexa hurried to answer, obviously glad of the interruption. “He’s been very patient, but he’s waiting for you two. The City and Towns were the ones who Summoned you.”

Marian and Jaquar did a little chant and the dishes and cutlery cleaned themselves and were stacked on the table. Elizabeth and Bri watched wide-eyed, then Bri hurried to put the casserole back into the chest and set the top back on it. She smiled. “Plenty of ice.”

“Bri, you can’t go out looking like that!” Jaquar sounded shocked.

All the women looked at him.

Marian said, “I would never have thought you to be a prude.”

He glanced at the other men as if for support. Bastien smiled blandly and replied in simple Lladranan that Elizabeth was beginning to understand, “She looks wonderful.”

Marrec leaned on the sofa and said in accented English, “I was in Co-lo-ra-do. In the summer. I saw bare legs.” He smiled reminiscently.

Calli blinked at him. “Oh, yes, I left you in the park when I went to the bank.”

Bri said, “Before I was in Denver, I was in Sweden, before that, Spain. But I’ve traveled a lot, I should have realized.” Now she smiled at the women, not nicely. “Can you do an instant clean on my clothes? The blouse is silk. Or do you have clothes for at least one of us?”

“Yes,” said Marian drawing herself up.

“Yes, what?” asked Bri.

Marian withdrew a finger-length stick from her pocket and with a flick of her wrist it turned into a wand. She pointed it at Elizabeth. A hot breeze hit her, rippled over her, shaking her clothes and leaving them with a fresh scent. Her panties had dried. But Elizabeth wasn’t too sure about the efficacy of magical clothes washing.

“Both,” Marian said. “I can cleanse your clothes, even while they’re on you, and we have clothes for you. Both of you.” She went into the bedroom and came back with two robes of dark red with white crosses on them. Medica tunics, one knee length, the other mid-calf. The shorter one buttoned tight around the wrist for several inches, so the sleeves didn’t get in the way of anything. The longer one had wider sleeves that came to the elbow.

Another heavy ripple of noise came from the door, obviously impatient. The knob turned and Sevair Masif strode in, followed by a hesitant person wearing the shorter medica robe.

“What is taking so long?” The tone more than his words held meaning. He stopped and stared at Bri. Blinked. Swallowed. A hint of red came to his cheeks. Bri sent him a grin, then slipped the tunic over her head and wiggled into it. The robe fell past her knees and she looked—marginally—like the other medica. Since the tight lower sleeves didn’t fit well over the thinner silk shirt, Bri rolled up the red sleeves and let the white show. It was a very Bri look: casual, rakish, elegant. Proclaiming to all that she leaned toward New Age. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine Bri in a proper nurse’s uniform. Meanwhile the medica was eyeing Bri’s style.

Elizabeth wasn’t about to add to the show. She looked at the remaining heavier robe with short sleeves. “Not one for each of us at all,” she said. “Two different robes.”

“One for each of you,” Marian said easily, “but in the two different styles that the medicas wear. This one is for traveling.”

Bri took the long tunic, and tossed it over Elizabeth’s head before she could protest, pulling it down over her Earth shirt and slacks, twitching it so it fell smoothly. The hem was long but the sides were cut high for easy movement.

Bri hummed in approval. “Looks good.”

Elizabeth had worn a cream-colored silk shirt and dark blue slacks to their father’s birthday party while Bri had worn stylish jeans and a turquoise shirt.

“It suits both of you,” Alexa said.

“Prie introd moi,” said Sevair.

“This is Sevair Masif, a City and Townmaster, a stonemason and excellent architect of Castleton,” Marian said.

He bowed. “Call me Sevair,” he said. Those were the last words Elizabeth understood of the long stream of sentences, except that the gist was splitting her and Bri up. One for the Castle medicas and one for the City? When she glanced at the medica, she had her hands folded at her waist and was nodding.

As soon as he finished, the medica launched into speech before Elizabeth could ask for a translation. The woman tapped her chest, gestured to the whole Castle, was impassioned. Elizabeth thought she spoke of facilities and training, or an exchange of training, while the man had spoken of need and duty.

The medica paused for a breath and Marian interrupted. “You’re not understanding much of this, are you?”

Bri said, “I lived in Cannes for two years and Elizabeth studied French and visited me.”

“But it’s not quite French, is it?” Marian said.

Everyone stared at them.

Bri looked at Sevair and the medica, inclined her head, and said. “Je ne comprehends pas.”

The medica sighed, looked at Marian.

“Just a drop of language potion,” Jaquar wheedled, drawing a tiny bottle from a pocket of his robe. It sparkled. “A drop would let you test it for a couple of hours.” He flashed a “Trust me, baby,” smile. “You’d be able to speak and understand Lladranan well.”

Elizabeth decided to let Bri handle this and kept her mouth shut.

Bri said, “How many medicas are there?”

“Five here at the Castle,” Alexa said, “the best in the country. The Marshalls can form a healing circle, too.” She shifted, appearing disgruntled. “Though none of us have been able to cure those with the sickness, like you did.”

“They are the Exotique Medicas,” Calli said. “They will have skills that the rest of us don’t. Like I can speak with the volarans, or you can handle that baton.”

Jaquar had strolled over to Bri, lifting a small cork from the bottle. Blinking, Bri could see that the pale lavender liquid inside sparkled a little, even in the tendrils that rose from the bottle. Really odd.

Jaquar waved it under her nose. It smelled wonderful, floral, like all the spring blossoms of a tree. She wanted another sniff, but since it was more like a craving, decided against it.

“Say something, Sevair,” Jaquar ordered—and it wasn’t in English, but sounded perfectly clear and not the mangled French Bri had had to concentrate to untangle.

“We,” Sevair gestured to the medica behind him, “have come to discuss matters. Since there are two Exotique medicas, it is only reasonable one stay here at the Castle and one come with me to Castleton.” Though he sounded as if he was reporting a compromise that didn’t please.