Healer's Touch (Deadly Touch #1) [Complete]

Chapter 25: Home

"You can't wear those." Hisham pointed at Jonas.

Jonas looked down at his knives.

"I bet half of Turhmos thinks you're dead by now. Best if we keep it that way. But you riding through the country looking like... well, you, and dressing like, well, you, isn't going to keep the illusion long. Hopefully, we won't strike problems that need easy access to them, anyway."

"Hopefully," Jonas grumbled and began removing the vest.

"Braph took it." Llew swallowed. "Braph took your knife."

Jonas's face clouded.

"I stuck it in him." One of Jonas's eyebrows shot up. "I should have pulled it out. I'm sorry, I thought he was dead." Stupid, Llew. Neither a good soldier nor a good healer do you make.

"He didn't give it to them last time," said Hisham. "He had it, what, fourteen years, and he never passed it on. I'm not sayin' I know how he thinks, but—"

"Who would he give it to?"

"You're aware of the knife's effect on Aenuks?" Hisham asked.

"I used it to escape Braph." Llew lifted her hand, flexing the fully healed skin, remembering the wound that had festered.

Jonas nodded approvingly, and Hisham looked surprised for a moment. "Well, imagine a whole army of Aenuks with wounds like that," he said.

Llew's blood ran cold. A whole army of Aenuks with non-fatal wounds they couldn't heal by magic, but which caused them to draw in ghi. Everything they touched would perish.

"I don't know about you, but I think two Kara going into the heart of Turhmos's military without a Syakaran knife, when the enemy could very well have one and use it to great effect, is kind of dumb," said Hisham.

"And he killed you once already." Llew threw in her two cinqa. "I won't risk that again." Everything she wanted to achieve would be best done with a plan, and that plan needed to be made without the threat of imminent capture or death. Plus, she'd made that promise to Merrid.

Jonas nodded. "You're right. It's too dangerous."

"And you need a new shirt. Again." Hisham rested an elbow on his horse's saddle. "And we should cut your hair."

Jonas stopped in the process of shoving a couple of knives into his belt and shook his head.

"Yes," said Hisham. "Your likeness is too well known. Anything to make this journey safer..."

Jonas jutted out his jaw, fighting down his temper. Then he threw a knife to Hisham, folded his arms, and waited.

Llew looked up at the tree, bidding it farewell. Then she noticed something: a collection of seed pods dangling at the end of spindly twigs. She didn't recall them being there previously. But they must have been, they couldn't just appear from nowhere. She walked back to the tree and clambered up the trunk, shuffling along a branch until she could reach what she was after. She pulled a couple of bunches of the pods from the branch before shimmying back down the trunk and returning, triumphant.

Hisham had hacked off the bulk of the length of Jonas's hair and Llew was surprised by the effect the new look had on her. She'd always thought there was something about the way Jonas's hair framed his face that appealed, but the shorter style made him look younger, or perhaps simply his age.

Her face must have given everything away, because Jonas's expression switched from a dark scowl to neutral in an instant, then the corners of his mouth lifted.

Llew felt sick. Before her stood her rapist's lookalike.

Jonas's face fell. "Llew?"

She didn't know what to do. She couldn't move. She could hardly breathe. Jonas took a step toward her, but as his fingers brushed her shoulder, she lashed out, swiping his arm aside. She stood there, mouth open. It wasn't Braph, so why was her skin crawling? Damn Braph. Damn Braph!