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The same dark-skinned servant, who had previously admitted Alva into Dame Tallian's residence, prepared everything necessary for the healing ritual. Out of tact Alva moved away from him and pretended to be interested in the wall painting, but every now and then he cast covetous glances over his shoulder. Not often there is a chance to get an insider's look on the magical know-how.

Dame Tallian suggested he could take a walk, get a cup of wine, go see his friends, but he refused. Now, when his uttermost desire was about to be fulfilled, he didn't want to delay it even for a moment.

"Your companions will be worried."

"I had asked them for a day's leave. I thought that you might turn me down, and then I'd go and get drunk." After a pause Alva added, "They are able to entertain themselves without me. They can wait."

Dame Tallian shrugged and returned to her preparations. Again she became distant, cold and businesslike as she had been at the beginning of their conversation. Yet now Alva knew he could melt her icy demeanour. His heart was beating faster in joyful anticipation. He wanted to come closer, touch her slender white hand or her wavy green hair, as if to make sure he wasn't daydreaming. But he didn't dare, with the servant present.

Only now Alva had a good look at him. Dark-chocolate skin, thick black hair braided into two dozen little braids, slender but muscular body. By all appearances he was from the banukheeds, nomad tribes of the Arislani deserts. One had to admit, the servant was good-looking, in spite of being rather hard-featured. Thoughts that he could be attending Dame Tallian not only in her guestroom, but in the bedroom too, were quite persistent. What if she'd invite the servant to join them? That was a possibility one ought to think carefully over...

At last the preparations were finished, and the servant left, with a farewell unfriendly glance at Alva. Oh my, the Arislani seemed jealous! That made Alva even more cheerful. When Dame Tallian made him sit in a chair, he caught her hand and kissed it, earning a swift punishment from her: a light slap on the lips and a reproachful glance.

The things necessary for the ritual were not that different from those used by the physicians of the Healers Guild. There was hot water in a jug, cold water in a silver basin, narrow strips of dressing cloth, jars with ointments, an incense burner, a big mirror, a leather-bound book that looked like a ledger.

"Where are all those mysterious amulets, skulls, bones, glowing crystals, ancient volumes and other magical objects?"

"Cheap bric-a-brac, only for the purpose of impressing the ignorant," she answered with an air of delightful self-conceit. "A mage of the highest rank doesn't need crutches."

"What are you going to do?"

"Time is like a river, and that's why it could be controlled by a Water mage. I can stop Time the same way I can do a stream or a wave, and even make it flow backwards. I won't heal you; I will make your scars never exist. You can watch if you want – the mirror is for you. Not for the weak of heart, but you don't seem weak of heart. You have the right to watch what I am doing."

And he watched. She warned him it would hurt a great deal, and it was not an exaggeration. The scars on his face, neck, hands reddened, opened up, and there came the pain, black and blinding as it was the moment he got burned. This time, though, Alva didn't faint, and the pain didn't last long. He cried out, pressed his palm to his cheek, but the next moment the scars were gone together with the pain. There was smooth skin under his touch, fresh and delicate like a child's. Even his hair was his natural colour of pure flames.

Now the face looking at him from the mirror was his own.

"Till now I had been using the word 'sorceress' without understanding its real meaning," Alva said quietly. His voice was full of awe. "How can I ever repay you, my lady Tallian?"

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