He took his leave quickly, slipping out into the night that was his true home to move the next piece in the game he now knew for certain to be afoot. How had the Boki found Tiberius after all these years? The possible answers were few and the likely answer obvious.

A deep game indeed ...

High Matriarch Lenora called out, "Novice Rosana! Your young man has finally arrived."

"Will!" a female voice squealed.

He barely had time to brace himself before Rosana flung herself at him as if she had not seen him in years. She was as slender and lithe as a doe in his arms, and a strange warmth passed through him at her open display of affection and concern. Mayhap it was his fever worsening.

"You look terrible," she announced with her usual bluntness.

He grinned down at her. "And you are more beautiful than ever."

She cast her gaze down at the floor as a pretty blush climbed her cheeks. Will stared at her downcast eyelashes. Never had he seen any so long and luxurious. She blinked. Time slowed and the moment stretched out in slow motion. Her eyes fluttered open as gently as a butterfly's wings in the first light of morn. The room and its noise faded away, leaving the two of them alone in an otherworldly place where faint whispers of a natural magic older than time twined around them, invisibly drawing them to each other.

"Have I finally found a way to silence you?" he teased gently.

She looked up at him, her black eyes snapping with laughter, her mouth opening on a retort, but Lenora interrupted briskly, "Feed the boy and then show him to a bed. He looks like he could use some rest."

Will flashed a grateful grin at the matriarch, then followed Rosana to the kitchen. She wore a dress tonight and not the sturdy traveling clothes of before. Her waist was tiny, her shoulders narrow. The only girl even close to his age back in the hollow was Helga Larsdotter. She was fully a hand taller and broader than Will and she'd been as strong as a lumberjack ... not exactly a paragon of petite femininity.

As Rosana gestured for him to sit at the long trestle table while she ladled up a bowl of what smelled like mutton stew, he was stunned by the effect just gazing at her had upon his breathing. Or maybe it was just his illness worsening. Her mouth-a thoroughly lush affair-curved into a little smile, causing a dimple to wink merrily in her cheek. She was the most ravishing creature he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Any news of my family and your friends?" he asked.

"No." She set the bowl of stew before him and he glanced up in time to catch tears spilling over onto her cheeks before she dashed them away. His own heart fell like a stone. The meal, so enticing a moment before, looked completely unappetizing of a sudden.

"No one?" he whispered. Not her colleagues? Not his parents? None of the other villagers from the hollow? No one?

"No one. I checked the death logs myself." She sat down on the bench beside him. "Eat. You look like you need strength."

For her, and only for her, he forced a spoonful of the hot stew down. Another. And another. How much he ended up eating he could not remember later. Enough to ease the gnawing ache in his gut at any rate.

"Better?" she asked eventually.

The meal had made the worst of his physical symptoms pass. But it had done nothing for the hurt in his heart. Not wishing to disappoint Rosana, however, he answered stoutly, "Better. I vow, my stomach near gnawed a hole through my spine before I got here."

"What took you so long? I was sick with worry, what with the rioting and violence earlier."

She was worried about him? The warmth of the bracing meal spread well beyond his belly of a sudden.

"Something passing strange happened to me tonight...." He felt foolish telling her a piece of wood was stuck to his chest and he was afraid to pull it off. Heat climbed his neck and spread across his face.

"You are hurt?" she asked in quick concern.

Better to just show her. He untied the neck closure of his shirt and exposed the disk of wood.

She leaned forward, interested. Stars above, she smelled of vanilla. "What is that?"

He shrugged, feigning a casualness he did not feel. "I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me."

She scooted close to him. Her small hands were warm and soft against his chest, and abruptly his heart beat far too hard against his ribs. He yelped as she tried to wedge a fingernail under the edge of the disk to pry at it. Embarrassed, he mumbled, "I already tried that. It is stuck fast."

"How did it get there?"

"I picked it up"-his face felt hot at the half-lie but he forged on-"and then I fell with it in my grasp. It just ... stuck ... to me."

"Have you tried an alchemical solvent to release the glue that holds it in place?"

He hadn't thought of something like that. Unfortunately, alchemical potions were hard to obtain. And even if a solvent was available, he had no coin to purchase such a thing. His face burned even hotter.

"We have solvents in the storeroom, upstairs. If you're finished eating, we shall try one, yes?"

He followed her up a narrow servants' stair, glad that his forest-trained eyesight adjusted quickly to darkness. Only a single candle on each landing lit the way, and lithe shadows of his escort danced upon the walls. She led him to the third floor and then down a dark hallway to a low, iron-banded portal.

"Hold the door open while I light a candle," she murmured.

He stepped forward, close enough that her scent wrapped around him again, warm and delectable. The heat and nearness of her drugged him until he could hardly think as they slipped inside the storeroom.

She muttered over her shoulder, "Help me search the alchemy globes. We're looking for a poison labeled 'alchemical solvent.' Try this shelf of contact poisons."

The shelf at eye level held long, narrow boxes, each holding a row of round glass globes the size of plums cradled in a bed of straw. Some of the globes were cloudy, some clear; a few held brightly colored gases within. There must be thirty of them. He cast his gaze lower to other shelves holding various bottles and jars of pourable and drinkable poisons. He'd never dreamed the Heart had such riches!

As he examined labels where Rosana indicated, he was grateful for once to his mother for forcing him to learn to read despite his loud and frequent protestations that it was a worthless skill he would never use. His parents had taught him in secret and exhorted him never to let anyone know he could read. They said it would give him an advantage in life when people assumed he was not literate because he was a peasant. It wasn't that reading and ciphering were illegal. They were merely too time-consuming for peasants to learn in the midst of their daily race to survive, and hence associated only with the wealthy and those who had attained rank within the Empire.

The labels contained both the name of the contents and the expiration date of each. He noticed that none of the solvents were more than a handful of months old. Alchemy must expire in about the same time frame as potions and scrolls, then. Their magics usually held for no more than a year or so. Unless, of course, they were stored in special-and rare-containers that could protect magic from draining away.

"Here it is!" Rosana exclaimed, carefully lifting a narrow bottle.

Will held the candle for her while she relocked the storeroom behind them. Then she blew out the light to conserve it. Something he'd expect of a frugal housewife but not an Imperial guild member.

"Is the Heart not as wealthy as the other guilds, then?" he asked.

He made out the silhouette of Rosana's shoulders shrugging ahead of him. "We do well enough. But if you had a choice between spending your gold on candles or on potions and scrolls to save lives, which would you pick?"

"I see your point."

"Being a healer is not about wealth or power. Well," she amended, "we are powerful but not in the way you might think."

"In what way?"

"The Kaer heals common people. Births their babies. Mends broken limbs and cures diseases and infections that otherwise kill common people. And we do resurrections, of course. Who is the average peasant going to love more-an Empire that takes his bread and coin in taxes, or a House of Healing Heart that saves his life and asks only what he can afford to pay in return?"

Will chewed on her words as they neared the staircase. Her comments, although they made perfect sense, danced dangerously close to treason. But then, the gypsies had been hounded and harassed by the Empire since anyone could remember. She had reason to dislike the Empire. Still, he'd had no idea the Heart held such a powerful position until she pointed it out. He asked thoughtfully, "Does the Heart have need of force casters, perchance?"

"Why do you ask?" Rosana replied, startled.

He shrugged and hoped he looked casual.

"The Heart looks mainly for casters of spirit magic. Force is mostly a battle magic. Not sort of thing we use much around here. But maybe the Royal Order of the Sun could use it."

"Who are they?"

She rounded on him in surprise. "You've never heard of the Royal Order of the Sun?"

"I grew up in the woods. We didn't get many visitors."

She shrugged. "The Royal Order is made up of guardians and knights who protect Heartstones and healers."

Ahh. The Heart's version of the Celestial Order of the Dragon. He asked curiously, "Who'd want to hurt healers?"

"Not many people. The Royal Order spends most of its time protecting stones."

"Heartstones are used for resurrection, right?" he asked. He felt smart for being able to toss out that tidbit.

"When a spirit absorbs a stone's magic, it gains enough strength to re-form body and inhabit it."

"An entirely new body?" he asked, shocked.

She nodded. "No matter how badly injured before death, a whole and healthy new body form, assuming spirit strong enough to journey back through stone-with guidance of healer trained how to use it, of course. Not all spirits come back, though."

"Why not?"

"We not know for sure."

"How does a Heartstone work?"

She shrugged. "Stone make light visible in spirit realm. If spirit see it, spirit can go to it. Draw energy from it to resurrect."

He frowned. "What is it?"

"Magical stone. Some say sentient."

"If it's sentient, why would it allow spirits to drain energy from it for resurrections?"

Rosana laughed. "Now you know great mystery of Heartstones. Emperor give large kingdom to anyone who answer question, I expect. He love to cast off Heart and force common people to depend on him alone for healing and resurrection."

Now, that was outright treason. "Have a care what you say," Will muttered sharply under his breath. "Such words will get you killed or worse!"

Rosana glanced up at him from under her thick eyelashes. "You not tell on me, would you?"

His breath caught in his throat and he shook his head, struck dumb by her mild flirtation. He eyed the lime green goop clinging to the rim of the solvent bottle she unstoppered and managed to choke out, "Do you know how to use that stuff?"

She grinned. "Easy as pie. You pour over thing you unstick. It reverse effect of all paste or glue. And no, I not know how it work, Curious Will."

His mother called him that sometimes. However, at the moment he was distinctly uncurious to find out what that green mess would feel like against his skin. If the horrible pain when the wood disk had attached to him was any indication, this was going to burn like dragon's breath. Not only did he dread the pain, but moreover, he had no desire to whimper like a babe in front of Rosana.

"Come sit near fire where I see better," she ordered briskly. "And open shirt more."

He did as she directed with trepidation, steeling himself against what was to come. He was gratified, however, to see her gaze drink in his muscular chest. Cutting and hauling timber for the Hickory Hollow lumberjacks kept most of the young men there in excellent condition. And then there had been the endless chores Ty had made Will do over and over.

Carefully, she poured some of the green substance over the disk, catching the excess in a cloth she held below it. Other than being faintly cold against his skin, the solvent felt like nothing more than syrup dripping down his chest.

"See if it pry loose now," she directed.

He reached up and tried to pull it off.

Nothing.

He tried again, scraping his fingernails painfully at his skin in a vain attempt to gain purchase on the blasted disk. Again, nothing. It felt rooted to his body as if it had grown into him.

Rosana leaned back, staring down at the disk, confounded. "Never I see such thing. I think another healer must look at it."

In short order every other healer in the house examined his chest and expressed interest in his problem. However, none of them had any solution to offer, and none of the others had dimples and smelled of vanilla.

Finally, the adept who had taken over running the house until a new patriarch could be appointed commented, "I think we'd better show this to the High Matriarch."

Forthwith, Will and his gathered audience trooped upstairs to the same office he'd gone into when he first arrived in the building.

Lenora looked up in surprise as the lot of them tromped into her impromptu office. "What's this?"

"We have a conundrum, High Matriarch," the adept explained. "This boy has a strange affliction which none of us have been able to cure or even identify. We were hoping you might take a look."

"By all means. If you were sick when arrived, you should have told me, young man. Riots notwithstanding, we are here to heal all who walk through our doors," she said kindly.

By way of answer, Will pulled back his shirt, inured now to the idea of showing the wood disk to strangers. High Matriarch Lenora studied the disk as the other healers relayed everything that had been tried on it so far. And then she did an odd thing. She laid her palm directly on the disk, her fingertips cool on Will's flesh around it, closed her eyes, and murmured a half-intelligible incant, something to do with detecting spirits.

Her eyes flew open, and she jerked her hand away from Will with a start. "Well then. I think I may have found the problem."

Will looked at the healer expectantly.

"Yon disk of wood is sentient."

CHAPTER.

17.