Tris swallowed hard and nodded. "I thought you might say that," he said, surprised at how spent his own voice sounded.
Theron spared a glance at his bandages. "Looks like Carina's got you patched up."
"Even with deep healing, he's not going to be good as new overnight," Carina replied tersely.
Theron met her eyes. "Whatever he's got will have to do," she said matter-of-factly. "We don't have time to wait." She looked down at Tris. "See you at the salle tomorrow morning. We'll work on that kick." Without another word, Theron turned away. Carina followed her to the door and might have said something more to Tris, but as the healer closed the door behind Theron, Tris felt the world waver around him. He closed his eyes as consciousness once again slipped out of his grasp.
CHAPTER THREE
"You held your own today." Sister Theron offered Tris a hand up from where he lay on his back in the salle floor. He smiled ruefully and accepted her offer.
"If you mean that I managed to stay on my feet longer and I didn't lose my breakfast right away, then thank you." He steadied himself, fresh from a dosing of wormroot and a bad gash on his shoulder. Warm blood trickled down his arm underneath his sleeve, and the leather cuirass he wore seemed to weigh him down as he fought the poison in his system. His right leg throbbed from a bad wrenching after Theron pushed him to practice his Eastmark kick. In all, Tris could not recall ever feeling worse.
Theron seemed to guess his thoughts. "Your kick is getting cleaner," she said. "For a prince, you've picked up some interesting street fighting techniques."
Tris managed a chuckle. "Thank Vahanian." He tried to take a step and staggered. Theron caught him, getting under his left arm for support and draping it across her shoulders as he limped toward the door.
"I know you won't believe me, but you're learning to handle the wormroot," she said. Nothing about Theron was coddling. Tris knew that any praise he wrested from the skilled fighter was hard won.
"It's hard to remember that when I'm puking my guts out." Tris was leaning far more heavily on Theron than he wanted to admit.
"I don't think you understand," she said as they made their way toward the salle door. "A mage of middling power would be unconscious from the dosing you've had. Many strong mages take longer to recover their power after they've been poisoned. In between dosings, your power came back at full strength. And you've hung on to more control for longer each time."
"I still feel like shit," Tris muttered as they began the painful climb to the top of the spiral stairs.
When they reached the upper floors, a brown-robed sister ran past them, sobbing. A knot of robed mages huddled in conversation along one wall, and a small crowd had gathered around the doorway to one of the bedrooms. Tris and Theron exchanged worried glances.
"Go ahead," he said, leaning against the wall as she removed his support. "I'll get there. Looks like something big is going on."
Theron nodded and made her way through the crowd. Tris limped behind her through the cluster of Sisters, some of whom were weeping. At the doorway he saw that Carina and Taru were both already in the room, which was a bedchamber. With a shock he recognized Elam slumped at a table near the fire.
Carina ran to him. He waved off her assistance, finding that he could stand if he leaned against the wall. "What happened?" he asked, trying to take in the scene through a throbbing reaction headache.
"Elam's dead." There was a catch in Carina's voice. "Her heart—" She shook her head. "She was almost seventy years old." Carina moved past him to close the door, bolting the door to assure their privacy.
Landis was already in the room. Alaine was cleaning up Elam's spilled tea. Landis and Taru were deep in conversation. From their expressions, Tris could see that the two Sisters were not in complete agreement.
Something familiar tugged at the frayed edges of his power and Tris closed his eyes, struggling to control his magic through the fatigue and the poison. Carina laid a hand on his arm, but he shook his head, focusing all his will on the spirit that was trying to reach him through his fogged mage sense.
He opened his eyes. "It's Elam," he said, and the others in the room turned to look at him. "She's quite insistent—but the wormroot is making this difficult..." He closed his eyes again, willing his power past the poison in his veins. What should have been a simple working took all of his concentration, but he brought the spirit closer, and then, with effort, made the revenant visible to the others.
Carina gasped. Elam's ghost stood before them.
"I was murdered," the spirit said in a voice audible to all. "We have a traitor within the Sisterhood."
Taru stepped forward. "Elam—who did this?"
"I don't know. Something I picked up had a triggering spell. It stopped my heart. Every mage in this citadel has the power for such a spell. And many had the access to place the trigger." Elam looked at Tris. "Someone does not wish you to succeed in your training."
The image of the spirit wavered as Tris felt the wormroot unravel his control. Theron pushed a chair under him as he began to fall. Tris's power slipped beyond his grasp, and the visible image of Elam's ghost disappeared. In his mage sight, Tris could see Elam standing at a distance, her expression serious.
"Beware the avatars," she warned in a voice that only he could hear. "Whoever killed me will come for you next." Her spirit faded completely as the wormroot pushed even mage sight beyond his control.
Tris opened his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself not to pass out. Landis crossed the room and stood before him, her arms folded. Carina took a half step forward protectively, putting herself between Landis and Tris. Landis, easily ten years Elam's junior, looked haggard, and her eyes were tired.
"Elam and I often disagreed," Landis said quietly, "but I respected her. This is a great loss."
Alaine stood quietly near the fireplace, awaiting Landis's instruction. Taru walked back to where Tris sat and looked at Landis.
"What now?" Tris knew that it was his training, and not the future of the Sisterhood, which was uppermost in Taru's mind.
Landis drew a deep breath. "We will complete what Elam began." Her sharp gaze fixed on Tris. "Before you came to us, I found the stories difficult to believe—that a mage so young and untrained could survive the spirits of the Ruune Videya, let alone dispel them. Elam was correct in sensing the promise—and the danger—in that power."
"How can he train here?" Carina gasped. "He's not safe."
"I wasn't exactly 'safe' here before." Tris let his head rest against the wall; the room swam dangerously if he tried to sit upright. "Continue my training and you'll find your traitor."
"You offer yourself as bait?" Landis asked with a raised brow.
"I have no choice. There isn't time to delay the training. Elam believed that whoever killed her did it to stop me. So train me. The killer will have to strike."
"It's too dangerous," Carina protested. "Bringing down Jared and Arontala are more important—and if you don't survive your training, there's no one else to do it."
"Elam was right," Tris said quietly. "If I can't hold my own here, I won't defeat Arontala, either. And if I can't do that—the Winter Kingdoms are better off with me dead."
Landis looked at Tris in silence for a moment, and he thought he saw approval in her hard gaze. "All right. Say nothing of this to anyone else. If the killer doesn't know we've heard from Elam, she may be overconfident. Let Taru and Carina help you back to your rooms before you need a stretcher. I will see to making Elam's arrangements."