A Change of Heart

Technically Thursday March 4, 1490

At the little boy's words, Astera sagged with relief. "Thank you, Adonis," she breathed. She closed her eyes for a moment and then, opening them again, briskly gave Gordon orders on what to prepare for the ritual. Turning to us, she seemed to see us for the first time. "Children, what happened to you? Gordon, there wasn't supposed to be violence!"

Hurrying around the room collecting artifacts, the leader of the mice only shrugged and mumbled something about things not entirely going to plan. It was Jamie who said guiltily, "They were only there to mitigate the damage, in case something went wrong. We didn't expect a massacre." Something about his speech sounded different, I thought. Maybe the diction was too mature? But I was too tired to lay a finger on it.

Astera opened her mouth, seemed to decide she didn't want to know any more, shut it again, and finally ordered, "Lil, heal them."

Obediently, Lil moved to Ghallim's side. Together they crushed herbs into a poultice that they smeared liberally over his wounds, Ghallim wincing a little as his flesh began to mend itself. Curious, Lil inquired about the herbs, and he, perhaps needing a distraction from the pain, explained at length about marrowshade, its properties, and its tendency to grow around battlefields — especially inside corpses. I really hadn't needed to know that, but Lil suggested gathering more sometime. Ugh. After they'd seen to his wounds, the two of them moved on to Ynez.

Too slow still — Ashton was slipping away with every second of delay. In desperation, I decided to use magic together with Tel to heal his torn Pattern. If I'd been thinking straight, I would never have suggested something so risky — I'd have taken at least a few months to research every last eventuality and prepare every last safeguard. But now, kneeling by Tel's side amid melting snowdrifts, on the cusp of losing consciousness myself from sheer exhaustion, I thought it was a brilliant idea. What could possibly go wrong?

And so I fetched an Enochian book on healing and skimmed through the pages until I came to the appropriate runes. "There. Those runes," I told Tel, and carefully enunciated the syllables for him. In a daze, he parroted them, mangling the pronunciation somewhat less than usual. Perhaps delirium freed his tongue. "Now let's chant together," I ordered.

But although Tel struggled valiantly to recite the runes along with me, they still came out wrong and off magically, and of course the Effect failed. We struggled over and over, until at last I exclaimed in frustration, "Don't say anything! Let me try!" And I chanted in Enochian, thrusting my power at him, willing the magic to heal him.

Which it did, after a fashion. The bones in his twisted left foot straightened out, and the torn muscles and tendons reknit themselves perfectly — into a dog's paw. Complete with golden fur.

In a better mood now that the poultice was easing his pain, Ghallim said almost merrily, "You know, Tel, you really ought to work on 'olding your shape better. I 'ave seen members of ze Cult of Ecstasy with ze same problem. Zey turn into animals randomly. Eet eez most unhelpful." Good thing Tel was so good natured. I'd have smacked Ghallim.

Predictably, Ynez was distressed by anything that marred Tel's appearance. "Is it going to stay that way?" she asked anxiously. Then she winced and gritted her teeth as Ghallim tested a poultice on her.

Tel replied, "I hope not." But he didn't seem overly concerned as he extended and rotated his ankle, testing the joint.

Looking up from Ashton, Astera assessed our conditions and said sharply, "I'm going to need Ynez's help. Tel, heal her."

Tel protested, "But Astera, I never get it right. I just can't pronounce the runes right. My mouth doesn't move that way."

"Just try, Tel. Look inside yourself and — well, just try."