Free Bloodstone by Helen C. Johannes

of a paw pad and four toe pads. A strange sensation rattled through the pit of her stomach. Mesmerized, she sank to her knees and spread her fingers, as Pumble had demonstrated, over the print. The heel of her hand sank neatly into the depression at the rear of the paw pad. As if possessed of a will of their own, her fingers contracted until, positioned like claws, they settled into the toe pads.
    Almost at once, something bonded her hand to the ground. Mirianna’s heartbeat skipped, but her panic fled as quickly as it had arisen. This was not a grip, not a phantom hand, but a force that gently held her palm and fingers pressed to the earth. She was certain if she pulled hard enough, she could free herself, but at the moment she had no desire to do so.
    In the filtered morning light, the sensations rising from what should be cool sandy earth were strangely warm, and dappled sunlight played over her arm. She raised her head as if impelled, and her gaze traveled between the two columns of gray-etched white bark. It crossed trampled grass and scuffed sand where a saddle had sat, touched the edge of a fire pit, and came to rest on a pile of rumpled bedding.
    There was a woman there...on her hands and knees...a young woman with tousled hair and a frantic look...trying to protect something...someone...
    Thousands of prickling sparks rushed over Mirianna’s face, across her chest, and through her extremities. Her fingers dug into the sand like five unsheathed claws. By the Dragon, I am seeing me as the lion saw me! With a little cry, she jerked backwards.
    “What’s the matter?” Tolbert demanded, raising his head from his sand drawing.
    “I—” She stared at her hand. Sand dribbled from the palm, but the fingers flexed at her command. “N-nothing, Papa.” What can I tell him, that I’ve had a vision? She brushed her hand over her skirt and stood. “Something in the sand pricked me.”
    “What in the name of Beggeth are you two doing?” Rees stood beside the fire pit with hands on hips, blond brows a straight line. “We’ve leagues to make today. We won’t make a single one if you don’t get packed.”
    Mirianna ducked her head. “Yes, of course.” She hurried to her father and helped him to his feet.
    Rees stood, watching her roll her bedding. She felt his gaze bore into her back, but he said nothing and she didn’t turn. Finally, she heard the crunch of his boots crossing the clearing. She looked up as she rose with her bundle and saw Rees halt behind the double birches and stare at the ground.
    A muscle worked in his cheek. Muttering, “Bloody Wehrland!” he lifted a booted foot and rammed it down with the force one would apply to a snake’s head. Teeth bared, he ground the heel into the paw print.
    Mirianna shivered. She turned with her bundle and hurried toward the horses and away from the man at the clearing’s edge.
    ****
    The Imposter of Nolar sat up in bed. His hand went immediately to the pouch dangling under his nightshirt. It was warm, warmer than lying against his skin would warrant. Frowning, he tugged it free of his clothing.
    Something had disturbed his sleep, but he was certain it was nothing in the room or immediately outside it. And the morning light too faintly illuminated his bed curtains for it to be time for a master and gentleman to arise.
    Stifling a yawn, he opened the pouch and withdrew the crystal. It responded to his murmured word with a sparkle of color. Holding the column horizontal on his palm, he watched colors shift and reform along the faceted planes. At another word, an image coalesced just beneath the surface.
    The Imposter of Nolar studied the image. “So, the old man has his daughter with him, eh?” His fingers tugged at his goatee. “A small complication, Rees, but nothing you can’t handle, if you remember that your loyalty is to the gems.” He sighed. “Such a nubile thing, too. Dare I hope you’ll keep your breeches fastened long enough to bring her back to me