No, brighter. Hot, white, piercing light, stabbing through Kendall’s fingers. The thing on the roof made a noise like a clockwork cat being boiled: a shrieking, clattering hiss followed by a thump as it fell to the ground. Eyes slitted, Kendall felt rather than saw Rennyn start to tip forward, and grabbed at the back of her coat. Managing to catch hold before her teacher was more than halfway out, Kendall pulled back and ended with a damp armful already colder than she should be. Kendall hadn’t figured out more than that before the glare through the coach door changed.
Light did weird things to Kellian. Sunlight turned them golden, their eyes yellow discs, their hair and nails pale flames. At full moon they were silver, and they even went a kind of rose during a painted dawn. Kendall had never seen one in light as strong as this, and for a moment couldn’t even tell who it was, saw only a vaguely human shape of burning blue-white. Even the clothing was lit or lost in the glare.
But of course it was Captain Faille. One lightning-tipped hand found Rennyn’s throat, touched her cheek, then he picked up a cloak from the seat opposite and laid it over them.
"Keep her warm. DeVries, assist Meniar."
Gone again. Kendall squinted into the glare, then tightened her grip on Rennyn.
"Is she—?" The Pest stopped trying to squeeze himself into the far corner of the coach and moved forward. "I suppose she must be. Fel, she can cast like that without a focus." He shook his head, grimaced, and then slid out into the blaze.
Frowning, Kendall slipped an arm under Rennyn’s legs and struggled to move her limp figure away from the door. Stupidly tall woman. That she didn’t stir at all during the heaving wasn’t a good sign. Sliding into the gap by the door, Kendall tucked the cloak properly around her charge, then pulled one of the warm glowstones to her and set it in Rennyn’s lap. She might still be breathing, but Kendall hadn’t seen Rennyn so deeply unconscious since that first week after she nearly died.
But it was being wet that was the problem, and Kendall, still dripping herself, scuffled about trying to dry hair and skin and finding another of the glowstones. The demon prince’s miscasting had stolen Rennyn’s physical strength, so not only was she liable to catch colds, but Lieutenant Meniar had explained that even a minor sniffle could weaken Rennyn enough to make her more likely to catch another. And that would tire her more, so that she’d have a harder time fighting off the next. Even relatively little problems could lead to a deadly downward spiral.
With an arm around Rennyn’s waist to make sure she stayed upright, Kendall squinted into the glare, trying to work out what was happening through the haze of rain and light. Less screaming now, more shouted questions but, since everyone except Kendall spoke Kolan or Verisian, this didn’t tell her much. Over near the lead coach she could make out Lieutenant Meniar talking rapidly to the man who had run past, who was clutching his shoulder. Lieutenant Faral was a streak of lightning on top of the tumbled coach, helping someone climb out. The only caravaneers Kendall could see were trying to calm the horses of the next coach over. The Vanmaster, a grizzled and impatient type, came staggering up to Lieutenant Meniar, herded by Captain Faille. Collecting the injured, Kendall guessed.
Sukata and the Pest weren’t anywhere Kendall could see. Even without the glare the coaches blocked at least half of what was going on. Two men came to help Lieutenant Faral lift injured people out of the fallen coach. Captain Faille carried another person up to Lieutenant Meniar, a woman with a stain down her stomach and skirt, who clung to him when he tried to put her down. The light made the colour all wrong, but Kendall knew the stain was blood.
Sukata ran up then and handed Lieutenant Meniar a slate, but raced straight away again, burning white. She and the pest must be in the other coach writing up Sigillics for him, in oil pastel to withstand the rain. Captain Faille went to one knee, talking to Meniar as he detached the woman’s arm from around his neck. But he stayed holding her as Meniar began to cast.
Kendall was abruptly glad she wasn’t any closer. Turning, she fussed with Rennyn’s blankets, and wrapped her charge’s icy hands around the glowstone, holding them in place. Out in the rain the woman had arched backward on Captain Faille’s lap, and something had come out of her stomach. A little bug, hand-sized, shaking out its wings like a butterfly from a chrysalis in the few moments before the light made it sizzle and burn.
The woman was screaming. Screaming and screaming, and Kendall would probably do the same if a bug had come out of her stomach. The things had been stinging the people they were chasing, laying eggs in them. They’d grown so big, so quickly. Fel, it was no wonder Rennyn had cast, even knowing what it would do to her. It explained why Lieutenant Meniar was doing his healing out in the pouring rain, too. In the light.
Every time she glanced out, Captain Faille and Lieutenant Faral were in a different place. Collecting injured people, herding those who had run outward back into the Waystation’s circle, organising for the wreckage to be moved, getting the final two coaches into the safety of the glare. Babysitting was the easiest job going. Not that Kendall was really doing more than stopping Rennyn from falling off the seat as the driver continued to struggle with the horses. But she’d been around the Kellian enough by now to know that having someone to sit with Rennyn made all the difference when they couldn’t be with her themselves.
Even Lieutenant Meniar, who had more to do than any person could manage, came straight to check on Rennyn once he’d dealt with the people who’d been stung. Dripping all over Kendall, he didn’t do much more than see how Rennyn was breathing, but he frowned all the time.
"It’s not so much what she’s done to herself by casting with all her strength, it’s that when her system’s shocked like this she’s ridiculously vulnerable. If she grows at all responsive, try and give her a little honey and water. I’ll send Sukata with a fortifier."
Rubbing a hand over his face, he hurried away, leaving Kendall to go through Rennyn and Captain Faille’s belongings in the hopes of finding honey and water, or anything more useful than the squashed packet of honey cakes she discovered where she’d been sitting. She’d given up and was wetting Rennyn’s lips with drops of rainwater when a blazing blue-white girl arrived, herding a crowd into the coach with a few words of Kolan.
Kendall needed a moment to recognise them as the people from the first coach, a family of Kolans who had ponced about in masks to show they were noble, and had both a maid and a manservant to send to tell people what to do. Only one of them, the extra-snotty oldest daughter, was still wearing a mask, and they all looked shaken and battered. They squeezed four across on the seat opposite Rennyn and Kendall’s, both the father and the manservant missing.
"Move her a little closer," Sukata said, pulling out her slate. It helped when she spoke, because she looked like nothing in the world.
"Thought you didn’t feel ready to try any healing magic," Kendall said, swapping sides with Rennyn again.
"A fortifier is straightforward. And one of the reasons we’ve been getting so many lectures on healing magic is so we can help in emergencies."
Those who were allowed to cast Sigillic Magic. Not that Kendall would want to try and mess with healing, but it was constantly annoying that Rennyn wouldn’t even let her start with something simple. Sukata was a good caster though, and she didn’t have any trouble with the spell, which would make it a little less likely Rennyn would get sick.
"We’ll be heading out very soon," Sukata said, folding her slate. "You’ll need to sit between Her Grace and I."
For a moment Kendall couldn’t think why, but of course Sukata was completely soaked. "We’re not going to stay here?"