Ahead, Finn turned his head sideways, clearly listening, but there was no helping it. Not in the tunnels. And as it was, there wasn’t a person in Mudaire other than Bercola whom Killian trusted more than the boy.
“I’ve seen healers working in army camps more times than I care to count,” Killian continued. “They don’t heal every last scrape and bruise; their efforts are more … targeted.” Frowning, he considered his own experiences. “I couldn’t tell you how they do it, but they can focus their marks on the worst of the injuries. Sometimes they’ll only take the edge off. Stop the bleeding and then stitch and bandage or do whatever needs to be done. It allows them to save more lives.”
Except he also knew Serrick wasn’t allowing the healers discretion in this. He was forcing them to heal the soldiers enough that they could fight. Healers were burning out and dying in unprecedented numbers, and it wasn’t sustainable.
“Do they study how to do all this?” she asked. “At the temple?”
“Yes. It’s a school of sorts, I suppose. There’s a similar institution in Revat, though the healers in Gamdesh have choice in whether or not they wish to attend.”
Killian didn’t have a chance to say more on the subject. The quiet chatter of children’s voices reached his ears, growing until he and Lydia rounded a bend and encountered the group waiting for them. It was the same spot he’d brought her the prior night, almost beneath one of the shelters, and he didn’t miss the way Lydia cast her gaze upward before focusing on the children.
Many rested on the sewer floor, coughing or still, brought by their friends and siblings in the hope they might be saved. And there were so many. Dozens and dozens, and it made him feel sick, because he knew their faces. Remembered when they’d been strong and healthy. When they’d had hope.
She is their hope.
Lydia stepped away from him, moving among the children, many of them reaching up to touch the hem of her cloak, whispering Hegeria’s name. The handful of candles made the crystals on her mask sparkle, her skin nearly the same shade as the satin, full lips a pale pink. She bent from time to time, touching foreheads and whispering words, every eye fixed upon her. With every moment, Finn’s story that it was Hegeria visiting the tunnels seemed more like the truth.
Finally, she turned, gesturing to Killian. “This girl first,” she said. “Then this boy.”
Picking his way through the children, he bent to pick up the girl, his chest tightening at the sight of her familiar face. She was the one he’d given his cuff link to. The one he’d promised to protect.
One of many people he’d failed.
Resting her on the floor a short distance from the group, Killian moved back to give Lydia space to work. The girl stirred, her breathing labored, face colorless, and Lydia pulled down the collar of her ratty dress, pressing her palm against the child’s chest.
Though Killian had seen healers at work hundreds of times, it was as astonishing now as it had been the first time. The girl’s breathing steadied, losing the wet rasp, and her skin lost the waxy tone of near death. Her eyelids fluttered and opened, and she jerked in alarm.
Killian dropped to his knees next to her, holding the candle up to illuminate his face. “Easy, little lady,” he said. “You’re with friends and you are well now.”
Her eyes widened with recognition, and then her arms were around his shoulders. The girl clung to him for a minute, then reached into her pocket and extracted his cuff link. The damned thing was made of gold and jet and she could’ve traded it for something to eat. A clean place to stay. “It keeps me safe,” she whispered, and the words carved out his heart.
Lydia spoke. “Finn, get her something to drink. Something to eat. She’s still weak. And then bring me the boy.”
She healed the boy, then two more before Killian asked her to stop, sensing she was at her limit. A limit she’d push right through if left to her own devices. “We have time,” he said. “All night, if need be.”
“What about the Princess?”
Her voice was changed, raspy with age, and it was a struggle not to push back her hood and take off her mask to see how far gone she was. All he could see were her hands,