Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine by Jeanne G'Fellers (the rosie project .txt) 📕

over. “Is your hair the same color as Chandrey’s? Are the curls natural?” Cance delicately fingered LaRenna’s spirals until she jerked away in disgust. “In time, precious, you’ll learn to appreciate me just as Chandrey once did. I had her very well trained. You’ll be the same picture of obedience after a few lessons.”

“Cance!” Brandoff had gotten no farther than the stair head. “She’s not Chandrey!”

“I know that,” said Cance. “But she will serve me just as well, if not better. I believe I’ll keep her for myself. What of it, woman? Are you oathed to that Krell you called out for downstairs?”

“No.” LaRenna spoke as loudly as her pained ribs would allow. “But I would never—” Bane placed his hand over her mouth. He stared pleadingly at her and shook his head.

“No matter.” Cance passed the glass back to Bane. “I won’t oath with you until I see you in your true Taelach form. I’ll strip the dye from both our heads as soon as we leave Langus. By then, I’m sure you’ll be more considerate of me.” Cance glanced back at Brandoff. “You getting more wine or not? I’m thirsty.”

“I’m going. I’m going!” Brandoff flew down the stairs and stepped behind the bar, where she vented her frustration by throwing several empty crystals against a nearby wall.

Upstairs, Bane helped LaRenna drain a second and third glass in rapid succession. The wine absorbed quickly in her empty stomach, making her visibly lightheaded as it interacted with the remaining drug in her system. “I think she’s had enough,” said Bane when she had choked down most of a fourth. “Let’s set it.”

Cance positioned at the twisted ankle and held it firm. “You got her?”

“I may not be able to hold her still if she struggles.”

“Starnes!” Cance bellowed. “Get your ass over here and lay across her legs. That’ll keep her down.” She snickered. “Stars, that’d keep me down.” Starnes made his way slowly across the floor, cutting himself several times on shards of broken crystal. He reached his father’s side and drew his considerable girth across LaRenna’s upper thighs. “Brace yourselves,” Cance warned and pulled the joint back into position. LaRenna screamed as bone scraped bone. The cry was audible physically and mentally, broadcasting over the immediate area to produce ringing pain in Cance’s fine-tuned Kimshee mind.

“She’s shocky.” Bane wiped the cold sweat streaking LaRenna’s face and grabbed her wrist to check her pulse. “Hurry this before it stops her heart. She’s still not completely down from the prock.”

“Again then.” The joint slid into place with a resounding pop that forced an even louder mental shriek. Cance had to shake off the call’s effect and Brandoff could be heard below, cursing for the sound to stop. Cance bellowed for silence then turned to Bane with a face drawn by the sound’s complexity. “How the fuck did she get this finely tuned at her age? I’ve killed centenarian sisters with less of a mind.”

LaRenna spasmed in Bane’s arms, ending the cry. He checked her pulse again and sighed.

“She’s in shock. Put something under her legs before you splint the foot.” Cance took the pillows from the bedding platform and placed them under LaRenna’s feet.

“The joint moved, but it still doesn’t look right.” Cance’s mind burned to the point where she drew from her inhaler to relieve the fire.

“There’s too much damage.” Bane drew a blanket from his bed. “She needs a Healer’s touch.” He tapped Starnes’s shoulder and motioned him to move from LaRenna’s legs, lest she lose what little circulation remained to the injured one. His dark face was pasty gray and a chilling sweat dripped from his temples as he rolled to the side. Bane smoothed the blanket over LaRenna then reached two fingers to his son’s neck. “Not you too, boy.”

Trazar circled the Waterlead in the long cast of the evening shadows. The rear entrance was almost in his grasp when movement caught the corner of his eye. He retreated, flattening against the building. The shadow failed to notice him and continued its twisting lope to the door. In the dull reflection Saria Proper cast on its moon, Trazar managed a fleeting glimpse of the suspicious individual’s legs. The feet were unshod, heavy-clawed, and four-toed. They could be nothing other than Iralian.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dreams are the mind’s gateway to reality.

—Taelach wisdom

“What the—?” Krell pushed back the blanket to grab her ankle. Various aches had awakened her during the night but none as severe as what she felt now. Her sides throbbed, her jaw stung, and her abdomen—Krell wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them to her stomach. The entirety of her lower abdomen felt raw. Clutching her belly, she stumbled to the bathing chamber, barely making it before the pain overwhelmed her. She laid her forehead against the smooth stone of the toilet, gasping for breath between retchings. How unlike her to ache for no reason. How unlike her to be so nauseous. How unlike her to be—Krell swallowed hard. How unlike her to be so worried, but she couldn’t help it. “LaRenna.” Krell sank to the floor, afraid to move farther. She stayed in this position, sweating against the cool floor tile until first dawn approached, forcing her into motion.

On the far side of the Commons, Trazar scaled the Waterlead’s external supports, inching his way across a horizontal crosspiece until he could see into the second level. The same man who’d turned him away was bent over one of two prone figures. An elderly man sat beside the other.

Cance knotted the final loop stitched into LaRenna’s chin, clipped the thread, and leaned back to examine her handiwork. “Think it’ll scar?” she asked Bane. “I’ll scar Brandoff if she left one.”

“Your stitches are clean and her nose set well.” Bane tempered his approval. “The scar won’t show to any extent as long as infection doesn’t set in.” He returned his attention to the remains of his son’s shoulder. “There.” Bane drooped