of them, the details of the spell—the construction of it, the girders and wiring and plumbing—were hidden when it wasn’t being used. The only part that showed was the trigger, the part designed to interact with the user. Adepts didn’t like to give away their tricks, and they knew how to hide what they wanted hidden. And no, I don’t know how they did it.” He brooded on that a moment. “If I ever get that damn elfstone figured out, I’ll be able to tell you more.”
“The gem you snatched off Rethna, you mean? It’s an artifact?” It had made bullets bounce off the elf lord. Or maybe they’d poofed out of existence. She didn’t know how the gem worked, but she knew it worked. She’d shot Rethna several times at close range. Didn’t hit him once.
“Oh, yeah. Tricky bugger. I haven’t figured out how to activate it or get the rest of the spell to show, but the trigger shows, and I can see the power, so I know the charm didn’t evaporate with Rethna’s death.”
“Which makes it an artifact.” She opened the back door. No one in the kitchen, but Rule was upstairs. Maybe the Leidolf Rhej was with him. “And the fifth magical artifact you’ve seen? What about it?”
“With that one, nothing showed but power, even when it was used.” He followed her inside. “Which ought to be impossible, because the trigger has to show. Otherwise there’s nothing for the user to connect with.”
“But you’re sure it was an artifact?”
He slid her a grim smile. “Oh, yeah. But that one wasn’t an adept’s work. That was the staff she made.”
ALL Rhejes were Gifted, but their Gifts varied. Two were healers. The Leidolf Rhej was one of those two, a statuesque woman with skin the color of hot chocolate made with plenty of milk. Her hair was a tight cap of mixed gray and black that showed off a high, round forehead and the pair of huge gold hoops in her ears. Lily didn’t know her name. It was custom to not refer to a Rhej by name unless the Rhej gifted you with her name personally.
“No need to cram your lunch down so quick,” she told Lily, leaning comfortably on her forearms, crossed on the round kitchen table. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m supposed to, though.” Lily finished the corned beef sandwich she’d thrown together and reached for her glass of milk. She was usually a Diet Coke girl, but corned beef demanded milk. “Tell me something. Your Gift doesn’t work on me, so why is it you can peek inside my body?”
“Same reason Mr. Gorgeous here can see your magic,” she said promptly. “It’s not vision I use, but it’s a way of sensin’.” She flashed Cullen an amused smile. He looked all twitchy with the need to interrupt . . . but she was a Rhej. Even Cullen managed a modicum of respect with a Rhej. “An’ he’s just dyin’ to argue with me and explain it all real pretty, but you don’t need all that talk. Does the Nokolai Rhej sense where you are, even though she can’t see a thing?”
“Well . . . yes. But she’s a physical empath.”
“But your magic doesn’t keep her from sensing you. The way I see it, physical empathy’s a lot like healing, but a physical empath has all her Gift sittin’ on the sensing side of things. A healer has a bit of that sensing, only we have to lay on hands to do it, and then we can look under the skin, not just on the top. But it’s a sense, not that different from when Cullen here senses the shape of your magic.” She smiled. “You ’bout ready to begin?”
Lily’s stomach jittered unhappily. She didn’t think it was the corned beef. “I guess so. Do I need to do anything?” The only healer who’d worked on Lily before was Nettie. This woman’s methods might be different. Probably were, because she wasn’t a shaman like Nettie was. Same Gift, different practice.
“Just a few questions first. Tell me about these headaches of yours. You’ve had three of them?”
“Yeah. They hurt pretty bad, but didn’t last long. The first was just for seconds. A minute or less the second time. I’m not sure about the third.”
“Just over a minute,” Rule said. “I didn’t time it, but it was probably between one and two minutes.”