First Apprentice

Chapter 12 Part 3

"Unless Terry orders otherwise, yes," Diane said. "Any other questions or may I finish healing you?"

"What do you mean it's not an apprentice seat?" I asked. Grandfather hinted at several issues over the years, but he never outright explained how Terry's partnership worked when he served as both first and interim chief.

As the first always partnered with the chief, it looked like Terry partnered with himself, which was impossible because the Seven always worked in pairs with one defending the anchor point while the other summoned and repaired the gate away from the battlefield. No one can be in two places at once, which meant Terry either tasked others with his gates or had a temporary partner of sorts.

"We're a man short and have been since Asha's death. Whoever apprentices under Terry will fill in for the partner he should have, but doesn't." Diane reached for the baldric Joel fashioned into a sling and unfastened the buckle. With surprising gentleness, she eased the strap down. "Put the dagger down and raise your wrist."

When I tensed, she rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers against her arm. "Do you know why I'm in here tending the apprentice whose injuries are not life threatening instead of in there," she jerked her head in Terry's general direction, "tending my sworn chief?

"Because my time is and always will be more valuable than yours or Terry's or anyone else's because it is mine," she said. "Healing wounds earned in combat is one thing, but be warned. If you are ever wounded because you acted like a toddler during a sanctioned spar, you will pray for death before I'm finished healing you. That goes double for paranoid apprentices who try to prevent me from doing my job. Now, set the blade down and raise your wrist so I can finish removing Joel's pathetic attempt at field dressing."

I set the dagger on a pillow. Out of Diane's way, but in easy reach. She tapped her foot impatiently while I gingerly slid my fingers between the strap and my wrist and raised my arm. She unbuckled the second strap behind my back and tugged it free, revealing my stripes.

Diane hissed. "I guess you have a reason to be paranoid. Now, I'm going to cast some diagnostics. Just basic spells for now; no seals. We'll see where we need to go from there."

Diane touched her thumb to her index finger and pulled. A net formed between her hands. Purple like Grandfather's, but with eddies instead of stars. The threads also had a lot more red almost like Sumati's. How did someone with an aura like hers become a healer? Even when she used healing techniques, her magic screamed violence. The net fell from her hands and wrapped around my arm.

It burned worse than acid.

I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes, forcing myself to breath through the pain. My magic flared, pushed against hers, broke through. The burning dulled to a throb.

"This is why I hate working on ferepris." Diane tilted her head, eyes narrowed. "But you're not a ferepris, are you?"

I opened my mouth to reply.

"Don't answer," she snapped. "As of two hours ago, your status is one of our most closely guarded secrets. Until Terry or Joel say I need to know, I do not need to know." A smirk flitted across her lips. "But I have enough experience with ferepris to make an educated guess. Won't you throw everyone into a tizzy? Couldn't happen to a better group. We all need shaking up sometimes, especially the old ones. Keeps us alive."

Diane turned and reached inside her trunk. Grunting, she pulled out a square, granite slab as thick as my hand. The tiny runes carved into its surface resembled a swarm of ants. Intrigued, I brushed my magic against it.

Questing strands of magic greeted mine. They crawled towards me, following my magic to the source. I snapped the thread seconds before they touched me.