"I can't. My da's a master coffee roaster and I don't have the training. You can bet someone from Verlatta does though. If my da can't work, the landlord'll peg us out. My little brothers just turned ten. My sister's only eight."

Too young to be tossed out on the street, even with Danello to look after them if their father died. And he could if the merchants weren't buying. Some old soldiers could set bone, but I'd never heard of one who did it well. Danello might be able to find one of the herb sellers from the marshlands, but you couldn't trust the powders and poultices they sold. Better to risk an untrained pain merchant Taker than that that. Even if the Taker missed an injury, they'd probably heal most of it. My throat tightened and I coughed to clear it. "I don't have any pynvium."

"But you don't need it! You healed me and gave my pain to Heclar. You can do the same for my da."

"Who's going to take his pain after? You?"

He nodded. Actually nodded! "Yes."

Even if it wasn't a crazy idea, it wouldn't be enough. Not if his da had that many broken bones. "Taken pain doesn't heal like a natural injury does. It doesn't belong to you, so it just stays in your body. Once you take it, you need a trained Healer to get rid of it."

"I can manage it until the merchants are buying again."

"No you can't. You'd hurt bad as he does now. Don't you need to work too?" Even master roasters didn't make enough to support a whole family. Not many jobs in Geveg did-at least, not the ones Gevegians could get.

"Then we'll all take some, me and and my brothers and sister. It'll be okay if we spread it around like that, won't it?" my brothers and sister. It'll be okay if we spread it around like that, won't it?"

"It'll be awful." My stomach soured at the thought. "I can't do that to them."

Pleading, he grabbed my shoulders. "You have have to. We don't have anywhere else to go for healing. We don't have much, but we can pay. A little food, a place to stay for a few days if you need it." He looked me over, then smiled, an odd mix of hope and pity in his eyes. "Looks like you could use that." to. We don't have anywhere else to go for healing. We don't have much, but we can pay. A little food, a place to stay for a few days if you need it." He looked me over, then smiled, an odd mix of hope and pity in his eyes. "Looks like you could use that."

More than he knew.

"I can't," I said. "I was there, at the ferry. I...I pulled folks out. I..." Wanted to cry. Wanted to run. Wanted to say yes and sleep somewhere dry. Shame settled on me like a damp chill. Hundreds had died tonight. Was I really thinking about hurting children for a bed? If I could consider that, I might as well work for the pain merchants, trading on misery for my own comfort.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

He stepped back a pace and looked at me, critically this time, reaching out and lifting one aching arm, then the other. Noticing every time I winced and bit my lip. "How much did you take?"

"More than I should have."

I'd seen despair before, but it never looked as bad as it did on his face. I could get used to seeing that face, too. Shame we kept meeting in the dark, twisted up in our own problems. "What if we also took that pain?"

"No. You don't understand what you're asking me to do." I folded my arms again, trying to keep what little warmth-and self-respect-I had left. Without my terror keeping me alert, exhaustion tugged at my sleeves. I needed to find a place to sleep; preferably somewhere that didn't ask me to give pain to children. "I'm sorry, I really am. I hope-"

"Give me some, right now."

"What?"

"Pain. Let me see what's it like; then I'll decide."

"You're insane."

He held out a hand. Not even a quiver. "Just do it."

No, not insane. Desperate. Willing to do anything to save his da and his little brothers and sister. Would I do anything less crazy to save Tali if she she were in trouble? were in trouble?

If I showed him what it felt like, he'd change his mind. I checked the alley and the street. A few folks were chatting outside the taproom, but no one was close. I took his hand and pushed pushed.

He cried out and his hand flew to his temple over the left eye. Groaning, he pulled his fingers away and stared at them, a surprised look on his face. "I expected blood."

"There was a lot on the man I took that from."

Danello inhaled, blew it out slowly, nodded. "Okay, give me another."

"No!"

"You need-I don't know, room-to hold more pain if you're going to help my da."

The boy was crazy as a guinea hen. The pain should have ended it. Should have made him realize what a stupid idea this was, and not something you did to children, no matter how desperate you were. Refusing was the right thing to do. I took his arm, prepared to take back the headache.

Memories made me pause. I was ten when we were orphaned, Tali seven. The orphanage had taken us in, but kicked us out when I turned twelve 'cause I was old enough to work and they needed the beds for the younger ones. Tali was scared, wanting to go home and barely understanding why we couldn't. Danello's siblings wouldn't be considered orphans, not with him old enough to care for them. They wouldn't even get a chance chance at a real bed or a hot meal. All four would be out on the street soon as their rent came due. Sweet as Danello was, he sure didn't know how to live like a river rat. at a real bed or a hot meal. All four would be out on the street soon as their rent came due. Sweet as Danello was, he sure didn't know how to live like a river rat.

He'd have to learn fast, or they'd all die. He'd have to become the kind of person who would consider s.h.i.+fting pain to children to sleep in a bed. He'd have to become me.

I gave him more pain. A little in the arm, the leg, a twinge in the shoulder. Nothing in the hands or back. Nothing that might keep him from working.

Danello closed in on himself, sucking in his breath and falling back against the wet wood of the building behind him. "It feels different from getting hurt."

"The body has defenses for injuries, but it doesn't recognize another's pain the same way."

"Oh." Another deep breath and he stood straight, defiant. If I didn't know pain, I wouldn't have seen anything wrong with him. Crazy, yes, but he had iron in his bones for sure.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yes. How do you feel?"

"Sore, but not bad." At least on the outside. Inside? Like maggots on a dead crocodile.

"Good enough for my da?"

"I think so." Unless he was dying. If so, I wasn't good enough to do anything but steal his kindness the way Tali and I stole heals. And Saints save me, I wasn't sure which was worse.

Danello lived in one of the better boardinghouses on Market-Dock Ca.n.a.l, in a neighborhood I could only dream of affording. His family had three rooms to themselves-two bedrooms attached to a small kitchen and dining area. Though a woman's touch still showed, it had been a long time since it showed strong. Two dying plants-possibly coriander-sat on a shelf near the window, holding back faded and singed curtains bunched on one side. A rack of worn copper pots hung above a small stove, its skinny pipe chimney snaking up the side wall. They did have a view, though it was only a gra.s.sy corner of a market square. Two people were huddled under a bush, a ratty blanket tucked around them. I looked away.

"Did you find her?" a boy called, running out of the room on the left. "Oh, I guess you did." His mouth wiggled as if he was unsure whether to be happy I was there or scared that I had come.

"This is-" Danello turned to me and laughed sheepishly. "I don't even know your name."

"Nya."

He nodded. "Nya, this is Jovan. The other two are with our da."

Not knowing what else to do, I waved, and the smaller version of Danello waved back. Same rich brown eyes, same pale hair, same determined yet sad set to the chin.

"Da's unconscious now," Jovan said in the measured tone of someone trying very hard to sound grown-up. Saints, he was so young. Too young to carry pain that wasn't his. "Do we need to wake him?"

My stomach twisted, but I shook my head. "Don't wake him. I can do it while he's asleep."

We moved into the back bedroom, small but cozy. Paintings of flowers hung on the walls, some painted on wood, others on squares of cotton. By the bed, Jovan's twin brother sat on a yellow stool, his unhappy face pale and tight. Their little sister sat on the floor at his feet. Her blond head rested on his knee and her arms were wrapped around his s.h.i.+n. Neither looked up.

"That's Bahari, and Halima there on the floor."

I backed away. No bed was worth this. I wasn't healing, I was deciding who suffered. Saints did that, not me. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. So can they." Danello squeezed my hand, drew me forward. "What do we do?"

"Change your mind, find a pain merchant who's buying, drag him here by his hair if you have to, just please don't make me do this."

He took both my hands, held them tight. They were warm, and for one irrational moment I felt safe. "What do we do we do? do?" he asked.

What we had to, even if we didn't like it. Hadn't I always wanted to be a Healer? It might not be what Tali did, but I could could help them. The s.h.i.+ft was only for a few days, until the pain merchants were buying again. It wasn't as if I were help them. The s.h.i.+ft was only for a few days, until the pain merchants were buying again. It wasn't as if I were permanently permanently hurting them. I gulped down air and reluctantly pulled my hands away. hurting them. I gulped down air and reluctantly pulled my hands away.

"Nothing yet," I whispered. "I have to see how badly he's hurt first."

His da's forearm bent the wrong way, so that was broken for sure. The thigh was b.l.o.o.d.y and gouged, but the leg was straight. I glanced at Jovan and my stomach rolled. Just think about their father Just think about their father. I went to the opposite side of the bed and placed my hand on his forehead. Cold, wet strands of the same pale hair as his children's stuck to my fingers.

Tali's voice echoed in my head. She'd been teaching me what they taught her, claiming it was in case the League ever let me in one day, but I wasn't so sure of that. I figured it was just her way of making it up to me 'cause she got accepted and I couldn't.

I took a deep breath. Feel your way through the Feel your way through the body, to the injury body, to the injury. My hand tingled as I felt my way through blood and bone. Broken arm, as expected. Three broken ribs. Torn muscle on the leg, but not broken. Cuts and bruises all over, but he'd heal that on his own.

"It's not as bad as you thought." I explained his injuries as best I could without scaring the little ones. Bahari already looked ready to bolt.

"I'll take the arm and leg," Danello said as if ordering dinner. "They can each take a rib. That won't be too bad, will it?"

Spoken like someone who'd never had had a broken rib. a broken rib.

"It'll hurt to breathe deep. Bending and stretching will be hard." Three sets of brown eyes went wide. I almost smiled, but figured my grin would scare them more than the pain. "No roughhousing 'til the pain merchants are buying again."

Bahari jumped up, his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't want to do this."

"We have to. It's for Da," Jovan snapped back.

"I'll"-Bahari looked around the room-"do something else to help. Go to the herb sellers."

"Bahari!" Danello gasped. "Half the time they sell you poisons. I'm not risking Da's life like that."

I shuffled back against the wall. I wasn't sure I wanted to do this either, and I didn't want to s.h.i.+ft anything to Bahari if he didn't want it.

"It'll hurt," he said.

"Yes, but you can handle it for a few days."

"But-"

"Do it, Hari," Jovan said in a voice too old for such a small boy. "Da's never let us down, and we're not letting him down now."

Bahari didn't agree, but he didn't say no again either.

"Fine, then it's settled. Me first." Danello dragged over a chair from under the window and sat down, grabbing the arms tight.

"Danello..."

"Do it."

Just set the arm, heal the pain, and sleep in a dry bed tonight. Gritting my teeth, I tugged on the broken arm and Gritting my teeth, I tugged on the broken arm and drew drew. I swallowed my gasp and tugged harder as the bone knitted, setting the arm back straight. My eyes watered, blurring the already spinning room.

"I'm right here, Nya." Danello took my hand. The other was entwined in his da's fingers.

I gathered the pain like Tali taught me, held it in a tight ball churning in my guts. "I'm okay. Are you ready?"

He leaned back, grip tight on the chair again, and nodded.

I pushed pushed, a little at a time, letting him take some in and make peace with it before another shaft of pain sliced through him. My hands burned to my elbows, especially on one side. Danello shook, his skin pale as mist. His breath came in short gasps at first, then lengthened.

I slid to the floor, my back against the bed.

"Danello, are you okay?" Jovan tentatively reached out a hand and cupped his brother's shoulder. No one asked how I was, but Bahari glared at me.

"I'm fine." Danello puffed a breath and grinned. Pain tightened the corners of his eyes, but he hid it well. "Now the leg."

I gave him half. Who knew how long he'd have to carry it. I'd never carried pain for more than two days, and by then I'd been good and glad to be rid of it.

Jovan stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides. "I'm next." His determined face challenged me to say no.

If only I could.

"It'll be sudden," I warned, "and sharp. Breathe through it, and squeeze something. That helps."

I drew drew quickly, moved slowly, the needle stabs along my belly hot but not unbearable. I kept a little. Maybe he'd be okay with what was left. quickly, moved slowly, the needle stabs along my belly hot but not unbearable. I kept a little. Maybe he'd be okay with what was left.

Jovan yelped as I gave him his da's pain, but sucked in his bottom lip, hissing as he inhaled.

"Shallow breaths, Jovi," Danello cautioned.

"That wasn't so bad," Jovan said as I let him go. He wiped his sweaty forehead and grinned at his brother. "I bet you cry."

Bahari s.h.i.+fted his glare to his brothers, but he stepped forward anyway and grabbed the bedpost. He nodded sharply at me, like I'd seen the boxers do when the Fair came to town. "Do it fast."

"Are you sure?" I whispered.

His eyes softened a little, and he nodded. "Yeah. It's only for a few days, right?"

"Right." I kept a lot of his. He didn't cry, but he came close. He also didn't yelp, or make a single sound beyond the same teeth-gritting hiss Jovan had made. Bahari shot a smug grin at his brother. "I did it."