Free Empress of Wolves by J. Aislynn d' Merricksson

infected and they burn with a terrible fever. There is not a military facility or Technomancer Lab this far in. Another mage has seen them also, but she was no Healer. She has done what she can for them.”
    Vander hissed out a frustrated breath,
    “Yes, Master Wylsin, I can help them,” he said.
    “We can help them,” Kalla corrected gently, but the War Mage shook his head.
    “No, Dashkele, it is my responsibility.” He looked to Wylsin, “Please, show me where they are.”
    Kalla frowned at the determination in his voice. She wasn't sure why he felt the need to take it all upon himself, but if it would help him to make amends in his own mind she wasn't going to deny him that. He was more than capable of healing them both, of that she was very certain.
    Wylsin gave him another measuring look, surreptitiously gesturing for one of the servants. He gave them soft instructions to take the mage to the sickrooms and to take Vander's pack to his room. Kasai started to follow him, but halted abruptly at the mage's unspoken request to remain with the others. More servants hurried up to the group to relieve them of their packs, as Wylsin herded them to a table.
    Soft music filled the dining area, keeping the voices to a low murmur. Kalla was surprised to find that the source of the soothing music was a Harper, his fingers lightly dancing across the strings of a round-bellied mandolin, an instrument from Ne Ramerides. She studied the man a moment. His skin was noticeably paler than average, even in the inn's low lighting. Amber-brown hair fell past the high collar of his tunic, matching the neatly trimmed beard on his face. Unless the Healer missed her guess, the Harper himself hailed from Ne Ramerides. As they were seated, he ended the purely orchestral piece and began another, adding a rich singing voice to the music. The song he sang was a mournful tale of a valiant hero, his battle with a fierce dragon, and his ultimate betrayal by his closest of friends.
    “Something to drink, my Lord and Lady Mage? Magisters? Fury wine, perhaps,” Wylsin asked with a wry grin. A chorus of affirmatives answered him and the innkeep bustled away to the kitchens. Within moments, flagons of fury wine had been set before the group, along with platters of roast goose, potato dumplings, apple and almond salad and warm brown bread fresh from the ovens, dripping butter.
    They ate quietly, content to listen to the Harper and to watch the crowd. Only Kasai was tense, the absence of his mage leaving him uneasy. After a time Vander returned, weary and once more withdrawn. His patients were doing fine now, resting peacefully. He had been able to eradicate the infection and close the wounds of both. Wylsin brought food and fury wine for him, which the Dashmari gratefully accepted.
    Now that Vander was back among them, Aleister and Lukas were able to lure Kasai away to a nearby table where a game of
kessala
was in progress. The three were readily accepted among the players. Kalla took opportunity of the quiet and withdrew her journal. She sighed at the sense of familiarity, yet this time was different. This time it was not just her and her newly acquired magister. This time it was her and a whole group of people that she couldn't ever have imagined traveling with.
    The Healer reflected on the changes of the past several months and found herself thankful for the people she had been drawn together with. Not just Aleister, as both her magister and her
liya,
but for Vander, with all the changes that had been wrought in him, for Kasai, though she regretted the why of it, for Manny, the young Malkadoran Healer, even for Sir Lukas, though he and his mage were the newest of her traveling companions. She was most thankful for the fact that they had managed to save the former Praetor. Manny had chosen well, she thought. He would find no better protection.
    Beside her, Manny followed her example, pulling out his own journal. While they wrote, Vander finished his