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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Master and I reach for each other, and I try not to wince at the odd, uncomfortable sensation of his consciousness melding with my senses. This isn’t a mind merge—he can’t tell what I’m thinking or see my memories. He only has access to what I can see, hear, smell, taste, and say right now. And even then, if I’m speaking, it’s unlikely he’d be able to wrest control of my tongue from me.

“How will we know if it’s Talon talking or Master Samoine?” Tia asks Jaimin. “Because I’m not that interested in Talon’s opinion.”

“I’ll sound like myself,” Master says… through me. Feeling my tongue move but not controlling it myself is unpleasant. I don’t actually know what it’s going to do . And hearing Master’s voice come from me is just plain disconcerting. I can tell by the startled look on Tia’s face that she agrees. “All right. Tell me about the attackers. You couldn’t tell they were zombies by looking at them?”

“Not until they started moving around with mortal wounds,” Tia agrees, recovering. “Otherwise, they looked normal.”

“Jaimin could feel the difference,” I remind them. “But visually, it wasn’t possible to spot.”

We look at each other. “Is that normal?” Jaimin asks. “We don’t have enough information. I suppose I assumed that the dead would look… dead.”

“Could they be newly dead? Their bodies hadn’t had time to… do the dead people thing.” I shudder at the thought—not that I’ve seen a dead body after it was buried. Personally, I prefer it when the dead stay in their graves. They say in the empire across the sea, it’s traditional to always burn the dead, not just when there’s pestilence, and frankly, that’s beginning to sound like a custom we should have adopted.

“That seems likely,” Jaimin agrees. “I don’t know what the theory behind raising zombies is, but practically, a body that hasn’t begun to decompose and still has all its muscle function would move a lot more easily.”

What a charming thought that is.

“It would certainly make it easier for the zombies to remain inconspicuous,” Master muses. “We wondered how they could already be on the continent but not have been noticed. A walking decomposed corpse should attract attention.”

“You’d certainly hope so,” Tia mutters. “But how can we be sure? What if the process of zombification restores the bodies to what they looked like before? Nobody could ever be sure if they were fighting zombies or not unless there was a healer there to tell them.”

“We can’t be sure,” Master says flatly. “Not until and unless a more decomposed zombie is sighted.”

I sigh. It’s not often I get to be smarter than my master. “Stone, were the zombies that attacked us last night newly dead?”

~Yes~

In the embarrassed little silence, I ask, “Would older corpses look the same?”

~No~

Smiling smugly, I say, “Well, that’s good news.”

Tia pulls a face. “I suppose.”

“No, it is,” Jaimin says, putting down his cup. “The newly dead are the most likely to be missed. The zombies who attacked us were all healthy before they died… I think. They didn’t look emaciated or dirty, anyway, which they would have been if they’d been buried in paupers’ graves, so they likely have family or friends who would visit their gravesites.”

“And notice them missing,” Tia finishes.

“I’ll get the word out to the kingdoms,” Master says. “Perhaps we can find reports of graverobbers, narrow down where the bodies came from. That may lead us to the necromancers involved.”

Grateful none of that is my job, I continue, “Tia thinks we need more fighters, but the stone was very specific about who could travel with us.”

“We’re too dependent on Leicht,” Tia adds immediately. “Our whole plan was that he and I could protect Talon and the stone, and Jaimin could mostly look after himself, with us as backup in an emergency.”

My jaw drops at the insult. “Ex cuse me? I’m not a useless ornament! I killed two men last night!”

“I have questions about that, by the way. Let’s get back to it later,” Jaimin says. “I agree with Tia. I had to make a decision last night that impacted everyone’s safety, and I still don’t know if I chose correctly or not. Either way, a zombie is unlikely to give up simply because I fight back, so I’m going to be a liability in a fight.”

“Not a liability,” I insist. “You killed a man too. And you have other skills.”

“The point,” Tia says patiently, “is that Leicht was unable to help us because of our location. Not without setting half the forest of northern Lenle on fire, anyway. And frankly, I was lucky. If Talon hadn’t blinded them and knocked a few out, I would have been overwhelmed. Nine-to-one odds aren’t good.”

“And they may send more next time,” Master says. “Stone, can we hire some additional fighters to escort them?”

~No~

Fuck.

“Can we recruit some?” Jaimin asks suddenly. “Not hire.”

~Yes/No~

We exchange glances. “We’ll be adding to our group?” I check.

~Yes~

“Soon?”

~Yes~

“Here, in the village?”

~No~

“Well, fuck. When, then?” I grimace. The stone can’t answer that. It said soon, though…

“In Lenledia?” Master asks, his brain following the same path as mine.

~Yes~

My hopes soar… and then plummet. If the champion is in Lenledia and I hand over the stone to them, then there’s no reason for us to need an escort of the fighter kind. This must mean the champion isn’t there… or they are, and the stone is going to make me stay with them. I was really hoping to be back at the academy before winter set in properly.

“Where are you, exactly?” Master asks. “How far from the city?”

“Maybe two days,” Tia says. “I’d have to check on the name of the village, though.”

“The inn’s called the Boar,” I volunteer. “And the highway runs through the middle of the village.”

“Hmm. Maybe we can have the king send some soldiers to escort you the rest of the way to the palace. Experienced, loyal veterans whose only job is to keep you safe on the road, a temporary escort, no knowledge about why needed. Stone, would that be acceptable?”

~Yes~

I sag with relief.

“Excellent,” Master announces. “I’ll reach out to Haftel and have her lean on the king. Stay where you are—it’s safe enough for now, with the stone to warn you. Rest up, and I’ll let you know when your escort will be arriving.”

With the vision of two days—at least—of comfort in this delightful inn, I find myself almost giddy. “I suppose we can do that.”

Tia shoots me a look that says I’m not fooling anyone.

“Master Samoine, before you go,” Jaimin says, leaning forward, “I wanted to ask… is it possible to kill using telepathy?”

I blink. I’d forgotten about that—when I told Master that part, I just said I’d killed my attacker.

“It is,” Master says slowly. “Usually by driving them insane—bombardment of mental images and thoughts that aren’t their own. Destruction of their natural mental shield will also do it for most people—the sudden ability to hear the thoughts of others drives them mad. Telepathy isn’t good for directly killing—it’s a slower process that ends in the victim either being put to death or taking their own life. Though a strong enough telepath could theoretically take over someone’s mind so completely that they could be compelled to kill themselves without choosing to do so.”

Just the thought makes me feel ill. People always think telepaths are so eager to invade their minds, but the truth is, we’re even more rabid about mental privacy than ordinary people. We know exactly what it’s like to share thoughts—we go through the gamut in training, and it’s invasive and awful.

“No… I mean a telepathic strike. Something that would kill instantly but leave the body intact.” Jaimin’s voice is intent.

“You’re thinking of telekinesis. A strong telekinetic could theoretically crush the brain, instantly killing someone and leaving their body outwardly intact.”

Jaimin slowly shakes his head. “The brain was intact. There was no injury whatsoever.”

Master’s confusion sharpens suddenly. “This happened ?”

“The man I killed last night,” I admit. “I never touched him. It was… instinctive. I don’t know what I did.”

“The brain was intact?” Master asks Jaimin. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. I checked everything—he was human, and he was completely uninjured and healthy prior to death. No heart attack, no stroke. Not so much as a bruise. Just dead.”

There’s a long silence, and dread creeps over me. What the fuck did I do ?

“Speak of this to no one,” Master says at last. “ No one. It shouldn’t be possible. I don’t even know what it is. I need to do some research.”

Jaimin glances from me to Tia, then says casually, “Are there many things the twins can do that are never spoken of?”

Tia freezes, and my guts turn to water. “What do you mean?” I’m proud it doesn’t come out as a croak.

He hesitates, and my master asks me directly, “Does he know? Have you been careful?”

“We’ve been careful.” I rack my brain for anything that might have given us away. “I don’t think he knows. He might be suspicious?”

“It’s just… Talented twins… and one a rider, one a mage… that’s… unusual. I thought perhaps there might be some special skills associated with it.”

I breathe again. If he’s fishing, he’s not sure. I trust him—much more than I thought I would—but now’s not the time to make decisions that could potentially end with me and Tia being locked up and studied for the rest of our lives.

“Just extraordinary good looks and charm,” I quip.

“And intelligence,” Tia adds. “That’s mine, though. Not so much for Talon.”

“Hey!”

Jaimin nods. “Of course.”

Master changes the subject. “I’ll reach out to Haftel now and let you know what she says, but I think King Brend will be eager to help. He’s always been a good neighbor to us, and he and Haftel have an excellent working relationship.” He’s rambling, and I try not to wince. At this rate, Jaimin’s going to know his suspicions are founded just because of how badly we’re trying to distract him.

“Thank you,” Tia says. “We’ll wait here until we hear from you. Well, Talon will. I’m going to look around the village.”

Master withdraws, and as Tia leaves, I give my tongue a bit of a wriggle, glad to have control of it back.

When I glance up, Jaimin is watching me with that amused quirk to his mouth. Oops. I kept my tongue in my mouth, but there was some jaw movement.

“That’s such a strange experience,” I say in my own defense.

“I’m sure it is,” he agrees. “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. It’s just…” I shudder. “It takes getting used to.” I look him over. “How are you feeling? You look a little more like yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he says immediately, and when I laugh, sheepishly adds, “No, really. A little tired still, and some residual sporadic neuralgia?—”

“What?”

“Nerve pain. It’s not bad, and it’s not constant. It’ll be completely gone by tomorrow morning, I’d say, and it won’t stop me from doing anything today.”

I’m not completely convinced of that. Nerve pain, even if it’s not bad, doesn’t sound good. “We don’t have anything to do,” I remind him. “Just rest and enjoy the hospitality of this fine establishment.” I can’t wait to see what we’re having for lunch. Anything has to be better than what’s in our packs.

“You could let me heal that bruise on your shoulder,” he suggests. “It has to be hurting quite a bit.”

I resist the urge to rotate my shoulder, which is sore from when I fell on it during the fight, and wasn’t helped any by our ride immediately after. “Nope. It’s fine. No pain at all,” I lie. I’m not letting him heal me when he probably needs healing himself.

He gives me a level look. “Talon.”

“Jaimin.” I smile innocently, and he laughs.

“I promise, this won’t hurt me.”

“It won’t, because you’re not doing it. The only thing you’re doing today is resting and eating… and if you want, I’ll go and get a book from that shelf the innkeeper has downstairs. You can read on that nice window seat.” I gesture toward the window, and he sighs.

“I can’t remember the last time I read purely for pleasure,” he admits, and I puff up my chest. I’m the hero who’s giving him this small luxury! “But I wish you’d let me heal you.”

I set my jaw, and he holds up a hand. “Okay, I can see I’m not going to win this argument. Will you let me put some bruise balm on you? And drink a tea to help boost blood circulation. I brought both with me.”

That sounds like a reasonable compromise. “If it makes you happy.”

He’s already half risen from his chair, but he pauses and meets my gaze. “It would make me very happy.”

I wait until he’s bent over his pack before swallowing hard. This may not be the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

“Shirt off,” he says as he turns back toward me with a jar in hand.

Shirt. Off.

Definitely not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But I can’t back out now. Grimly, I stand, unlacing the neck of my shirt, and then, in one motion, pull it free of my trousers and over my head. In my mind, it’s a smooth, easy move. In reality, I get slightly stuck with my shirt around my head and have to yank it free.

When I emerge from the annoying fabric, flushed and annoyed, Jaimin’s face is neutral. His eyes, on the other hand, are laughing, and I like how it makes them look so much that I can’t even be upset.

“Sit,” he instructs, pointing to the bench at the end of the bed, and I obey. He unscrews the lid from the jar, and as the fresh herbal smell of the balm rises to my nose, he dips his fingers in.

That’s when I realize he’s going to put his hands on my bare skin. “Uh, I can probably?—”

“Reach the back of your own shoulder? No, you can’t. Not with it strained like this, anyway. Just sit still.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” I argue, even though I totally was. “I was going to say that I can probably ask the innwife for hot water to steep the tea.”

That little smile is back. “Of course you were. This might feel cold.” His fingers touch my shoulder, and yes, the balm is chilly, but his hand is not. I feel the burn of his skin on mine through my whole body, and it doesn’t ease as he gently rubs in the balm. “Is that helping?” he asks, and I don’t think I’m imagining the slight strain in his voice—but I can’t bring myself to look up at his face.

Instead, I focus on my shoulder. The balm has a cooling effect, and it’s starting to numb the ache. “Yes. Thank you.”

His hand withdraws, and I instantly miss it. “Good.” He screws the lid back on the jar while I reach for my shirt. “We’ll, uh, reapply it later. And then tomorrow I’ll heal any strain that’s left.”

I barely hear that last part, my brain fixed on the thought that he’s going to touch me again later. I make a barely intelligible sound of agreement and manage to gasp out “Tea,” before racing out the door, my shirt still untucked and unlaced.