“Let us hope so.” Preter laughed, then grimaced, rubbing his head.
Lizzan knew well the pain he was feeling. “The baths would take care of your headache. That is where everyone else has gone.”
His blush appeared again. “And all without their clothes.”
“So they are,” Lizzan agreed, eyeing his. Beneath the sleeves of a loose brown robe, strips of linen wrapped his wrists—and as far as she could tell, they wrapped his limbs completely. Aside from his head and hands, no skin was visible. “You don’t like to see people naked?”
“I have become accustomed to that. I am not so accustomed to being seen.”
“Request a private bath, then.”
Anticipation lit his face. “They would accommodate me?”
“If they are not already full. But before you go—do you have knowledge of magic?”
Though he didn’t draw away or move, it was as if a veil suddenly dropped over his eyes. “Some. Why?”
“I wonder if you recognize this.” She drew her father’s medallion from beneath her tunic and held it out as far as the silver chain around her neck allowed. “My father gave it to me on the King’s Walk.”
Rising from his chair, the monk bent for a closer look. “A charm? May I?” At her nod, Preter took hold of the medallion, rubbing it between his fingers as if to better make out the faded markings. “What does it do?”
Easier to show than tell. Lizzan tugged a dagger from her boot and drew the blade across her forearm.
“Not even a scrape,” Riasa breathed, then her eyes narrowed. “Though it shaved off a few hairs. What if there is force behind it? Your skin does not break, but does it bruise?”
“It bruises—though perhaps not as easily.”
After she’d chased the wraiths into the forest, Goranik had knocked her aside so hard that she’d shot through the air like an arrow and slammed into a tree. Her mind had been spinning dizzily as she’d gotten to her feet again. And for days afterward, she’d been sore, with a lump at the back of her head.
But the tree had cracked. Afterward, she recalled that it had—but barely did she see it then. Not with the wraiths charging around her. Not while their screeching filled the forest.
She forced those memories away. Still her hand trembled as she tried to sheathe the dagger, missing its mouth so many times that the blade would have cut up her leg if not for the necklace she wore.
Riasa sat back with a low whistle. “So this charm is why you did not die when you should have.”
“It is.”
“Do the Kothans know?”
“Only Aerax. The others might question my father’s honor. Never would I let them taint his memory. But if more can be made, perhaps you can use them against Goranik.”
Riasa nodded, looking to Preter.
“There is some faint embossing, but it appears to be nothing more than a coin hammered flat,” said the monk, sounding baffled as he turned the medallion to examine the other side. “Where did your father come by it?”
Lizzan shook her head. “Perhaps he told the story when I was very young, because it seems as if there is something at the back of my mind. But I cannot remember. My mother might know.”
“She is in Koth?”
“She is.” Lizzan reached for her mug. “More recently, I came by it through Vela.”
Preter glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
“After the Walk, I threw it into the lake. But Vela gave it to me at her temple here and said it was always meant to be mine—and not to throw it away again.”
“I would heed that warning,” Preter said dryly, sitting.
So would Lizzan. “What do you make of it?”
“Not much. But I am no master of charms.”
Riasa said, “I will take an imprint and show the priestesses in Krimathe.”
Preter nodded. “Also we might consult the monks in Radreh.”
The monastery that was the southern alliance’s next destination. A troubled look passed over Riasa’s expression at that suggestion, then cleared into a wide grin.
“There is our Queen Layabed!” she called to Laina, who was coming toward them in her red cloak. “While you have been dozing, my lady, I have been cementing our new alliance and taking the Parsatheans’ measure. I found them dedicated to their task, flexible of mind and body, and quite tireless . . . though not the equal of a Krimathean, as it was two against one, and I am not the one soaking in a healing bath this morn.”
Silently laughing, the Krimathean took the seat beside Lizzan’s. She inclined