The Fifth Healer

80.

Then I remember, with haunting clarity, where I heard those words before.

Do not cure one another with chronopathy, for in doing so both are sentenced to a fate worse than death.

I understand my parents' statement now. If a chronopath heals another chronopath, both are exiled. Exiled to the second floor. And both are cursed with a fate worse than death-ammortality.

"Well, say something!" says Ainsley.

"Okay...technically, narcisside is self-healing," I say. "Your sample would technically be a chronopath healing another chronopath."

"So, what, it's all right?" she asks.

"No, it's kind of worse. If one chronopath heals another, they're each cursed. Chronopathy poisons Chronopaths, whether you're the healed or the healer."

Ainsley gasps, covering her mouth. "Papas," she whispers. "He'll be cursed."

"We still don't know how they decide who goes up there on a given day."

"Who cares which Guild member it is? We'd be cursing an innocent person."

"Possibly," I say again.

She frowns.

I say, "I'm just pointing out that not everyone in the Guild is so innocent. But if we go back, it's not like we'd be able to get by all the Gnomons and remove your sample from that drawer. We have to proceed with our plan to go to Rome."

Ainsley gives me a look of disbelief. "So that's it? You're giving up? I'm as good as cursed?"

We are in a quiet corner of the train station, me pacing back and forth, rubbing my forehead, Ainsley sitting on a bench in front of me.

"It'd be impossible to get in there," I say. "Not if it's just the two of us, anyway."

"Who would help us? You don't mean Niles, do you? I know he's strong, but-"

"Not Niles. The Chronarchy. We have to get to Rome, present our case, and come back with a Chronarchical escort."

"All before noon tomorrow."

"Right," I say. "It's 4:18 p.m. That's what, about eighteen hours? The train's too slow. We'll have to fly."

"We need ID for that."

"We have money. We could buy fakes."

"We could try."

She stands and starts moving.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"I don't know, the fake ID store?" she says over her shoulder even as she speed walks toward the exit.

"How do we find that?"

"I dunno, maybe ask a cop for directions?" she says.

Suddenly she stops and slaps her forehead.

"What?" I say.

"I know this seems like one of those moments when things can't get any worse," she says.

"But they just did?" I venture.

She nods, tight-lipped. Then she says, "Did you notice all the luminaries being healed yesterday were injured?"

"Yeah...," I say hesitantly, unclear what the realization is here. "Isn't that kind of the point? The injuries are why they're on the list."

"No, I mean, all of them were injured. Not one was, like, sick."

I hadn't noticed. "Huh. I guess you're right."

"Do you think chronopathy can only heal injuries? Like, it can't cure disease?"