She turned to go, knowing there was a line of humans still waiting to see the Nadir. He could make the decision later when he had more time to consider it. She could only hope he’d come around to the idea.
She’d almost made it to the door when he rasped, “I can’t tell them it’s from you.”
Her heart leapt. “I know. That’s fine. I don’t need credit. Just ask them to use it. We healers are the practical kind, and if something works, that’s all we care about.”
Chapter 19
Brandt
The tonic the head mason spooned into his mouth tasted suspiciously sweet, more like a dessert than a medicine. What poison did its delicate flavor hide? Brandt held the golden liquid in his mouth, debating whether to spit it out, until Aalis’s glare and a guard’s brandished spear convinced him to swallow.
“What is that?”
“Medicine, obviously.” She measured another spoonful with mechanical precision and poked it between his lips before he could protest.
He swallowed the second spoonful, and warmth spread through his chest. “What’s it for?”
“Your injuries.” Without another word, she left the roost.
Her abrupt demeanor was to be expected after how he’d behaved, he supposed. He was trying to be gentler with the masons since he’d injured the young healer’s wrist, but suppressing his frustrated anger took all his strength. Every interaction was a trial, and often he was found guilty.
But he did his best to do as they asked, taking doses of whatever they poured into his mouth, like he was a sickly hatchling. He submitted to every treatment they proposed, let them chip into his hide and repair the cracks with limestone paste and molten copper. He kept his hands and thoughts to himself as much as he could.
Eight days later, he woke knowing his own name.
Not just his name sound, the one everyone called him so he couldn’t miss it, but what it meant. Brandt, son of Ghantal. Cliffborn commander in the Sixth Watch. The knowledge settled into place like a keystone, and suddenly other memories built around it. Training new recruits in the Tower’s hollow core. The young, eager faces when he demonstrated banking turns and paired them up to spar.
No. Not that. The sparring led to battles, to screaming, to watching them fall out of the sky like stones. He slammed a new wall against the memory with a grunt.
Still, once the wall was up and the sense of horror faded, he had to acknowledge that he was improving. This was the first wall he’d had to erect in several days, when before he’d been walling off nearly every interaction to be able to cope.
He mentioned it when Aalis visited with two of her apprentices to dispense his tonic.
“That seems markedly quick. I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” she advised, recorking the bottle. “Recovery can ebb and wane.It’s a bit like navigation. Sometimes the wind blows you in the right direction, but sometimes it sends you far off course.”
“I’m on course,” he argued, familiar anger rising.
“Time will tell.” She prodded one of the healing wounds on his shoulder, and he had to grit his teeth so he wouldn’t flinch. But he didn’t grab her wrist and twist until bones ground together.Progress.
“I remember my mother now.”
The junior masons exchanged glances. One scratched notes on a slate.
“What else do you remember?” Aalis asked, frowning slightly.
“My work as a commander. I was promoted after...” He frowned, chasing the memory. Ah, there it was. “After Kardok retired and left the opening. Or died? No, retired. His mate was the one who died.”
More scratching. More exchange of looks. More fizzing, sizzling anger under his skin.
“You probably overheard people talking,” Aalis said bluntly. “Mind walls as extensive as yours don’t simply crumble after a few doses of herbal tonic.”
He pulled in a deep breath to dilute his fury, feeling the warm sweetness of the medicine in his chest. It calmed him down enough to answer her civilly. “Maybe they aren’t as extensive as you thought.”
“Or maybe you’re creating false memories with new information.” She leaned close as though she were sharing a confidence. “I’m not accusing you of faking improvement to escape our care. But consider that wishful thinking might be driving your swift ‘recovery.’”
Rage flared, but only momentarily. The medicine gentled that, too, turning what would have been violence into mere irritation. “Test me however you want.”
“We will.” With one wing, she gestured behind her to the door. “Starting with your mother. She knows you best.”
