Page 18 of Runes To Rain
Fem nods and says, “Come with me,” as he walks out of the room.
I follow him to a room I haven’t been in yet that resembles some sort of office. There is a large desk along one wall, and bookshelves line that wall and two others from floor to ceiling. Along the fourth wall, there’s a large couch.
“Sit,” he says, nodding to the couch.
I sit myself at the edge of the large piece of furniture and watch as he pulls a small, structured bag out of the desk. He carries it over to the table in front of the couch and sets it down. He then turns on a lamp near the center of the room and brings it close to us.
“Sit back and set your leg here,” he says as he gestures towards the edge of the couch near him.
I oblige and watch as he gently unwinds the bandage.
He works in silence for a few minutes and then, glancing briefly up at me through his eyelashes, says, “I can tell you still think the healer was an angel.”
“I don’tthinkanything,” I say with a tight voice. “The healer was an angel.”
Fem shakes his head slightly.
“Even if the healer wasn’t human, which he was, angels don’t work as healers,” he says.
“I know what I saw,” I say, and he’s quiet again.
I focus back on the work he’s doing, careful to keep myself from showing the pain on my face as he inspects the gash on my leg.
“While it would be fun to think so,” he says, his voice lilting in a way that makes my jaw clench, “no one hasactuallyseen an angel in centuries. It is much more likely that the pain meds are messing with your head.”
“What do they work as?” I ask.
He lifts his head, clearly surprised by my question.
He pauses for long enough that I’m caught off guard when he responds.
“According to the histories that Lent is always talking about, if there were to be a non-human healer, it would be a demon. We suspect there may still be angels placed in high-level government positions. However, we have no proof of that.”
After a few more minutes, Fem says evenly, “Your leg seems to be healing well.” He looks up then, meeting my eyes again. “You will accompany us, but if you attempt any physical activity or don’t obey orders, we will have someone bring you back here.”
He pats my knee gently as he pushes himself to his feet, turns off the light, and returns the medical kit to its place. “Come on,” he says as he leaves the room, and I push myself up and follow him.
As we return to the main living space, I see that the others have gathered their things, and the house staff are again helping to pack the carriage.
“Get your shoes on and meet us out front,” Reem says in passing, his voice still rough with frustration. Whether at me or Fem, I can’t quite tell.
I go to my room, careful to disguise my remaining limp, and pull on a short pair of boots that won’t press on my wound. I also gather a cloak, remembering the chill in the air from the day before. As I leave my room, instincts pull at me to bring a weapon, but because I don’t have access to one, there’s nothing for it at this moment.
I leave my room and catch sight of Lent standing near the front door. He gestures for me to hurry. I follow him through the door and to a large carriage.
I settle myself onto the seat as the boys continue to discuss plans, such as what type of voice or person they think will fit into the band. Thankfully, I have a window, and as we rush past buildings and other carriages, I note that it seems to be early evening. The smoke is as thick in the air as it’s been, and an occasional raindrop falls, painting across the windows of the carriage.
I note Lent looking out the window, and he catches my attention and gestures with his head to the scene outside the carriage. “Lucky,” he says, looking back at the occasional raindrops.
“What is?” I ask.
“The rain,” he says as he looks at me. “Even those few drops are so rare it’s a lucky thing on a day where we could really use the luck.”
Before much time has passed, the carriage stops. Lent leaves to run an errand at a small shop while the rest of us remainbehind. After that, there is one more shopping errand that Fem takes, and then we arrive at our final location.
When we come to a stop, I follow the boys out onto the street. I hear the horses snorting behind me, jumpy with the occasional raindrops hitting them. I want to go to them, but I’ve promised to obey, so instead I meekly follow the others.
Reem leads us around the front of the building into an alley and down some steps through a small side door. The space inside is dark with a few guttering sconces along the walls. The floor and lower part of the walls are a dark color, with the upper walls a lighter grey that seems to almost disappear behind the smoke that gathers at the edges of the room.
