Free Keepers of the Flame by Robin D. Owens Page A

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,