“Now,” the man said, sitting back across from me, “we wait, soldier.”
“Soldier?” I repeated.
He gave me a sly smile. The oil burned steadily, filling the room with a rich, savory scent. I tried not to think about how my blood was in there, burning too.
“I can recognize a man-of-war when I see one, sir. But please, drink your coffee. There is no battle for us.”
He seemed sincere. Settling back in my chair I inquired, “How long will this take?”
“Until it burns out.” He considered me down his nose. “Your twin, he is like you? Not a soldier, but gifted.”
Again, I concealed my hesitation with a long sip of coffee. It was thick and strong, forcing back the fog of fatigue that haunted my steps since Tithe. My nerves calmed, but I sensed that that result came less from the warm liquid than it did from the simple relief of being away from Hart and Slader.
This man did not know my name. Neither he nor the merchant had even asked, and there was peace in my anonymity. I could be a new person, here—or rather, I could be myself.
“Yes,” I admitted. “A Magni, however.”
The jeweler nodded slowly, eyebrows high. “That is a dangerous thing, a broken Magni. And he is broken, I assume?”
I nodded my agreement. “The amplification worked on both of us, but we suffered for it.”
“Can I ask who did it to you?”
“Moon worshipers.”
“Who?”
I took another sip, trying to think of the Mereish term for the group. “Those who believe moonless nights open a door to the Other. It is a peasants’ cult, back in Aeadine. Some call them the Black Tide, as they perform most of their rituals during the spring tides.”
“Ah.” The jeweler’s lips pinched in distaste. “You were a child? Your parents condoned this?”
I stilled for a moment, then admitted, “My mother was a devotee. My father had died by then, and the grief… twisted her. Half the time, she still thought he was alive. She feared to lose my brother and I, and thought that if she was able to amplify our powers, we would be safer. The cult gladly took her money. After the rituals were performed, my uncle discovered the truth and rescued us.”
I did not mention that I had foreseen those rituals, and done nothing to stop them. I had been a child, crippled by fear and the need to trust my mother, mad as she was. I had failed to protect Ben, on that first and most vital day, and that failure was one I could never speak of. Even now, the memory sent a tremor through my hands. I tightened them around my cup.
“I see. Is your brother still alive?”
“He is.” A thought crossed my mind. “Could you help him? Make a talisman for him?”
“A Magni…” My companion leaned back in his chair, tilting it up onto two legs and rocking thoughtfully. “Perhaps. For the both of you, there might be help. I cannot give it, but possibilities exist in Mere.”
I stilled, setting my coffee on the arm of my chair. From his tone, he meant more than talismans. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you can be healed. You said you are twins?”
My throat felt thick. Healed? “Yes.”
“Then your conditions are bound,” the jeweler determined, frowning. “Even if you are healed, his sickness will unravel you again. You must both be restored together.”
I needed a moment to consider that, and he let me have it. The oil continued to burn as I drained my coffee, staring at the desk behind the man. Firelight glistened off gems and precious metals like lights in the Dark Water.
A cure, in Mere. The possibility changed everything, yet nothing at all. It was inaccessible and Benedict had no desire to be healed. He was not like me. I feared my power and lived each day in terror of becoming trapped in the Other, without my coin to save me. But Benedict? He was his darkness now.
“He will never concede,” I said at length. “He would not even hear me if I tried to convince him. We have spoken little, in recent years.”
“Why?” the jeweler inquired. The front legs of his chair tapped down as he leaned forward to refill my cup.
I started to push the question aside, but I had already broken so many barriers today. What was one more?
“We are identical, he and I,” I said. “There was a woman who loved me, a married woman. I refused her. But my brother found the letters she had written to me. He wrote back to her, under my name. He met with her, all the while pretending to be me. They had a child.”
The jeweler set the coffeepot down with a start, eyes wide in horror and incredulity. The oil behind him burned lower, bluish flames licking across the belly of the bowl.
“No!” the man exclaimed. “How could a brother do such a thing?”
“He was jealous. He always was, of any woman in my life. And he… He has not the conscience of a normal man, even before the Black Tide broke him.” I rubbed my jaw, feeling tension skitter up the back of my skull. “Everyone assumed he was me. The woman believed he was me. Yet if I had tried to prove otherwise, I knew the repercussions would destroy him. So, I took the fall. His… position, the rules, the structure and the respect he is given, they are the only things that keep him from total depravity. I knew I could survive the fall into disgrace. He could not.”
At that moment, the light of the oil fire went out. The murky daylight filtering through the window returned to prominence, and the jeweler slowly shook his head.
“That is madness, my friend, and I do not envy you. Here.” He picked up the bowl and held it out to me. “Go ahead, it’s quite cool.”
He was right. I picked up the coin, brushing off bits of ash from its chill surface and settling it in my palm. Warmth spread up my arm and I felt a wash of quiet, like the sun on a summer morning. Thoughts of Benedict and a little girl with his eyes faded. I was at home in my flesh once more, and it made my eyes burn with fatigue and unspent emotion.
“It will weaken as time goes on,” the jeweler told me with some regret.
My heart sank. “How long?”
“A month, if you only use it here and there. A week or two, if you use it all the time.”
I rubbed my forehead with the back of one hand. A month, at most? Would that be enough time to find Mary and reclaim my old talisman—if she still had it?
It would have to be.
“Thank you,” I said to the Mereish man. “How much do I owe you?”
He named a price, which I paid without question. When I asked if I could return for another coin in the future he nodded, but cautioned me, “This will not heal you, and it will make it harder to use your gift.”
Curse, I corrected silently. Aloud I said, “I know. And if I was to convince my brother to be healed, where would we go?”
The man shook his head. “I only know that it’s possible. A healer-mage could tell you more, but they rarely leave the Mereish Mainland. Perhaps…”
The man turned and made for a shelf on the far wall. There, he rummaged around for a moment before taking down a book, its red cover embossed with Mereish words.
He held it out to me. “I think you should take this.”
I accepted it, the soft passage of my fingers over leather loud in the quiet room. So, too, was the rustle of paper as I flipped to the title page. It took me a minute to translate, but when I did, my eyes widened.