Page 98 of A Conduit of Light
They’dargue and get nowhere with each other on the subject.Butshe was still there, every morning, every night, and he didn’t care what exactly had brought her here.
Shewas here.Andshe would stay with him—he knew it in his heart.
Hecoulddo it, though.
Hecould pull the gloves off theBaron’shands now that he was asleep.Itwas a little strange, he admitted, that he wore them even to bed.
BaronHeimlenturned again and moaned slightly in distress.Yes, they had put too much pressure on his worn body, andRevichwould gladly take the blame.
TheBaronwas nearing the end of his life faster than they had predicted, and soon, there would be no more time to practice.They’dhave to act, regardless of if they were truly ready.
Revput the cloth to theBaron’shead once more, but his eyes shifted to the gloves again.Forwhatever reason he wore them, surely he would forgiveRevichfor taking them off.Itwas absurd that it was even a subject of so much discussion and argument.
Hisdecision made, he threw the wet cloth to the bowl of warm water and gently, so as not to wake him, he pulled on the black glove that rose almost to theBaron’selbow.
Asit slipped down his mentor’s arm, his heart thudded through his chest, but sure of what he would find.Hegently pulled on the finger holes, one by one, sliding them off each digit.
Hesat still, the black leather glove clasped tightly in his hand, theBaron’sfingers bare.
She’dbeen right.
Allthis time, her instincts were correct.
Heimlen’sfingers were black.
Thelines of the disease ran down the blackened tips in detailed patterns like the veins in a leaf.
Hisgrip tightened on the glove, and in a fury, he ripped its twin from theBaron’sother hand.
Heimlenlay there, looking frail and well past his prime, tossing in his bed, his blackened, ruined fingers a glaring evidence of the truthRevichdid not want to face.
Excusescame.
Hemust have caught the disease somehow.
Creatingthe cure had given him the discoloration.
Maybethis was from something else entirely.
Thenwhy would he hide it—why the secrecy?
Itwas possible he didn’t want anyone to know of his deformity, butRevichdoubted that.TheBaronwouldn’t be so vain.
Theremustbe a reasonable explanation.Theremust be some way to explain why.
“BaronHeimlen,” he whispered in his ear, rustling his shoulder harder than he had meant, he realized, as theBaron’seyes flashed open.
Heput a hand on his head, rubbing his face and coughing while trying to sit up. “Whattime is it?Howlong haveIbeen asleep?”
“Lessthan an hour.ButIneeded to wake you.”
“Whatis wrong?WhereisSylva?Ineed her back here.”
“Iwill find her, but there is something we must discuss.”
Revichtook theBaron’shand in his and held it up for him to see.
TheBaronstared atRevichthrough his own discolored fingers before studying them himself. “Ah.Isee curiosity got the better of you,Revich.OrKarusgot the better of you,Ipresume.”
