Margaret woke first the day after they'd rescued Nightingale, which was unusual. More often, Shining was up well before the dawn. She looked across the tent in the faint grey light of pre-sunrise morning and saw that Nightingale was huddled up against Shining, clutching her tightly, and the white-horned woman was holding her too. I must have slept through something, Nearl thought, surprised by the faint flash of jealousy that rushed through her mind at seeing the two of them there.
Shining's eyes snapped open as she shifted slightly, preparing to rise. She hadn't realized just how light a sleeper the other woman was. "No wonder you don't think we need to post watches," she whispered, smiling to get the joke across.
Shining nodded, then let go of Nightingale carefully, clearly trying to avoid disturbing the young woman. She slid cautiously out of the tent, and Nearl followed her out equally quietly. "I'm surprised I slept in so late," Shining muttered to her. "The sun's almost up already."
"I am, too, a bit," Margaret admitted softly. "What happened last night?"
"Nightingale had a nightmare," Shining explained. "I woke up when she started moving about, woke her up. She didn't want to tell me what it was about, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. I held her until she fell back asleep… well, I guess until I fell asleep, too. It probably explains why I didn't wake up normally this morning, I didn't get back to sleep for a while." Her face showed little, but her eyes were more revealing. Margaret could see how troubled she was by what had happened to Nightingale.
"I see," she said quietly, nodding and resting a hand on Shining's shoulder. "Well, it's fine. We'll still be on the road in plenty of time, won't we?"
The Sarkaz woman nodded, turning to the fire pit and poking through it with a branch, revealing the coals that had lain dormant overnight. "Will you start putting together the food while I get the fire re-kindled?"
Nearl nodded, picking up a cooking pot and starting to add ingredients. In a little while, Shining had the fire going, and they were preparing their breakfast over the fire. Both of them turned at almost the exact same moment when they heard a noise from the tent. Nightingale was stirring gently. Her eyes opened, looking blearily out at them for a moment, then sharpening… until tears blurred them. "Oh… so it wasn't just a dream," she said with such gratitude that it tore at Nearl's heart.
"No, it wasn't," she replied, dipping her head slightly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Fine, yes," the dark-horned woman replied. She struggled slightly, but managed to pull herself out of the tent, lifting herself to an almost-sitting position. "It's cold," she remarked quietly, more observant than anything else, but both Margaret and Shining reacted quickly.
"Here," Margaret said, pulling a blanket around her. "Should I carry you over to the fire?"
"No," Nightingale replied firmly, trying to lever herself to a standing position. Margaret helped her rise carefully, trying not to injure her pride any more than she had to. Shining was on the other side of her, and between the two of them they helped Nightingale walk over to the fire pit.
"Sorry," Nightingale said sadly as she sank down into a sitting position by the fire.
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," Shining replied, downcast. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you." Nightingale looked at her, confused, and she shook her head.
"Don't worry about it," Margaret interjected, trying to defuse the potential awkwardness. "Here, Nightingale." She handed the young woman a plate of porridge. "Get some food into yourself, it's going to be a long day. We've got at least another several days of walking before we get to the next town."
Nightingale nodded, picking up a spoon, and started to eat quietly. Shining touched Nearl on the shoulder, drawing her slightly away, her voice low. "We need to have a plan for this. She's going to slow us down." Margaret would have spoken up, but her companion's look cut her off. "I'm not saying that she's at fault for that. But look at her. We can't ask her to walk fifty miles in a day and then help pitch camp and cook. She's been badly injured, her Oripathy is pretty advanced, and she probably hasn't gotten anything approximating exercise in years. So we need a plan, some way to help her travel with us."
Margaret nodded slowly. "You're right," she agreed. "I could try using my Arts to bolster her physical abilities. That would help her make some distance on her own feet, and also help her regain some of her physical capacity. Alternatively, we could carry her. She's not that heavy. If we traded off at times during the day, we'd probably be fine."
"I think the best option would be a combination of the two. Use your Arts to help her walk, but when she tires, we will have to carry her. I don't want to stay around here any longer than we have to. The facility is almost certainly going to report that to someone in charge, and that means that sooner or later, the Redeemers will hear of it."
"Fair enough," Nearl said with a nod. "Are you done eating, Nightingale?" she asked, turning to face the young woman. Nightingale nodded.
"Thank you," she said, and Margaret nodded back.
Once they had both eaten, they introduced the idea of Margaret's Arts to Nightingale. The young woman was enthusiastic about the idea of being able to walk long distances, and Nearl found herself worrying that she might push herself too far. "Promise me you'll tell us if you're tiring, Nightingale. My Arts could end up letting you push yourself too far, and I don't want that to happen."
"I promise," said Nightingale, nodding seriously. She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, wobbling a bit. Margaret frowned abruptly.
"That's no good. I'd completely forgotten, but you don't have shoes, do you?"
"Yes, she does," Shining said firmly, reaching into her bag. She pulled out the cloth-wrapped parcel she'd received from the citizens of Clastorn, unwrapping it. "I don't know how well they will fit her, but these are good boots," she continued, pulling out a pair of tall white boots. "Can you try them on?"
Astonishingly, they fit perfectly. Nearl smiled. "I can barely believe it. That's the kind of thing you'd hear in a fairy tale in Kazmierz." She pulled out the parcel she'd received. "Wonder if the magic will work twice." It was a white hat, something like a beret, with some black leather bands to adjust its fit. "Wouldn't have fit me, anyways, not unless we cut holes in it. You, though…" she settled the hat on Nightingale's head. "Looks great on you," she said with a smile.
The three of them set off down the road, illuminated by Nearl's brilliant aura.
XXXX
For all Nightingale's willingness, the next several days were very difficult. She wanted to carry her weight, to help her newfound friends and companions, but it was beyond her ability. Her body was too injured and too weakened by her long imprisonment to bear up to the harsh demands of the pace that Nearl and Shining had hoped to set.
Nearl's Arts were incredibly helpful to her, at the very least. They made it possible for her to walk unaided, but she was still slow compared to Shining, much less Nearl's distance-eating strides. But it was painful how much she could tell she was holding them back, and still more painful that even with all the help Nearl's Arts could give, even without anything to burden her compared to her companions' heavy packs, she could only walk for three or four hours in a day before her legs betrayed her and one or the other of them had to carry her.
Even when they set up camp, she was still learning how to be of help rather than being of help. It was hard on her, but she was managing. She only hoped that someday she would find a way to be of help to them.
That day was to come sooner, and in a different way, than she expected. The three of them had been walking for about an hour after they had paused for lunch, Nightingale leaning heavily on a walking staff that Shining had cut for her that morning, when her legs gave out on her, and she emitted a startled yelp, staggering and falling to the ground.
"Oh!" Nearl turned quickly, bending down and offering a hand. "Are you all right, Nightingale?"
"Yes, I'm sorry for worrying you…" she apologized, accepting Nearl's help in standing back up… then swaying heavily. Shining reached out, steadying her with one sure, solid hand, while the other accepted Nearl's backpack. The knight bent down, taking a knee to pick her up on her back, but a rustle in the bushes stopped her.
"What's that?" Shining asked sharply, her posture shifting into something lower, ready to act swiftly.
"Look!" Nearl gestured, and Nightingale saw something past her finger, a horribly bloated, spider-like creature growing a profusion of Originium crystals. The creature hissed, scuttling towards them, and Nearl drew her mace, leaping forward with a yell. Shining crouched between Nightingale and the animal, one hand on the hilt of her sword, but not drawing it yet. Nearl spun past the Infected creature, then struck out, hitting hard. The mutant lurched backwards with a burbling shriek, then snapped at the knight, but she was already moving, and struck out again. The blow landed hard, crushing the creature's carapace. It convulsed, light leaking from the cracks in its carapace. Nearl hurled herself towards her friends, and the insectile mutant exploded
Nightingale, already on the ground, felt the explosion like some giant had hauled off and struck her with a mattress. An irresistible force threw her in a tumbling slide across the road's surface, and she cried out as gravel and dirt tore at her, inflicting several minor but painful scrapes and bruises. She slid to a stop nearly five meters from where she'd been, moaning softly, and then heaved herself up onto her elbows, hurriedly looking towards where the slug had exploded, hoping that Shining and Nearl were all right.
Shining lay sprawled on the road, blood covering her face, clearly unconscious. The blast had caught her with a significant amount of shrapnel despite Nearl's attempt to interpose herself. Margaret herself was nearby, and Nightingale gasped at the sight of her. Chunks of Originium-fused carapace the size of her hand protruded from her armor, blood slowly pumping out around them, and one of her legs was badly broken, the bone visible.
"No… no, no…" Nightingale felt tears running down her face. "You can't… I need you…" She dragged herself to her feet, stumbling towards her injured friends. She collapsed onto her knees between the two of them, reaching out one hand and feeling Shining's chest. The dark-robed woman's heart was still beating, but Nightingale was still deeply afraid. She didn't even dare touch Nearl. The woman's injuries were worse than anything she had ever seen. She flinched away even from looking at them. She's dying, Nightingale realized. How… I need to help her. And Shining. They saved my life, I need to save theirs. But how? How can I do anything?
She clutched her staff tightly, and a memory leapt to her mind. "That means you can use your Arts without a focus, a staff or a wand or something else… but it also means that you should never do it," Shining said, concern plain on her face.
"Right," she said quietly to herself. Both of them can use their Arts to heal, so why shouldn't I be able to? She reached out, and faint sparkling lights began to dance about her. She heard a song, much like that that the bird accompanying her sang, coming from both of their bodies, and listened carefully to it. Then she reached out, her power starting to seep into her companions. She clenched her teeth as she felt the Oripathy lesions on her body begin to ache, and kept channeling the power, hearing the songs change as she focused, atonalities and unpleasant notes fading as the injuries on her friends' bodies healed. The ache became a burn, sharp and painful, but she forced herself to ignore it. Just a little more…
Finally, she gasped, her concentration breaking as she hit her limits, sagging down in a heap. She opened her eyes, and met Shining's. "Shining… you're all right…" she mumbled tiredly.
"Nightingale? What… what happened… Margaret!" The usually unflappable woman's voice sharpened with sudden concern, and Shining lurched to her feet, wincing slightly. She looked down at herself, then turned to Nightingale, her eyes clearing and sharpening. "Did… did you do this? Heal me?"
"Yes… and Margaret too…" Nightingale said tiredly. "I tried, anyways… did it work?" Concern added some pain to her voice. "She was… she was dying!"
Shining knelt next to Nearl, eyes scanning the Kuranta woman carefully, but also worriedly. "Yes… thank the Lost King." She turned to Nightingale, eyes misty. "And thanks to you. You saved both of our lives."
Nightingale only smiled back. She knew that anything she said wouldn't be sufficient to the moment
XXXX
Shining carefully extended her Arts, reaching into Margaret's body. The Kuranta woman was still unconscious, and she had to know, had to be sure, that she wasn't in danger. Light surged from her hand, cautiously probing newly healed broken bones and knitted wounds. She was astonished, in point of fact. Nightingale had managed to heal both her and Nearl at the same time, a feat that would have been utterly beyond her own skills. She could tell that the healing was somewhat cruder than she might have managed, and she took the opportunity to use her power to improve upon it where she could, but she could tell that she, too, had been badly injured by the Originite-fueled blast. Yet, as far as she could tell, she didn't even have a concussion, the other woman's Arts having been effective enough to heal that even as they repaired Nearl's own massive injuries.
"nngh… mmf…" Margaret mumbled something, stirring, and Shining placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Don't move just yet. That explosion hurt you badly, and though Nightingale already did a lot of the work I don't want you to move just yet." She continued her work, adding her healing to that which Nightingale had already done, ensuring that the knight would be able to move about and walk without re-injuring herself.
"Nightingale?" Margaret asked somewhat more clearly. "She…"
"Yes. We were both caught in the blast. She wasn't, not badly at least, and she was able to heal both of us. She saved your life, Margaret." Something wet landed on Nearl's breastplate, and Shining was astonished to realize that she was weeping. "Don't do that again, please. I don't… want to lose you."
"I promise, Shining," Margaret said, reaching up with one gloved hand and wiping Shining's cheek with a thumb. Both of them froze, realizing the unintentional intimacy of the gesture, and Nearl blushed slightly. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, removing her hand quickly.
"No… it's fine," Shining said quietly, reaching out and taking Nearl's hand in hers. "I'm just glad you're all right."
She was, more so than she had been in a long time. I've never felt like this before, she thought. I don't even know what I'm feeling, or why. But I really do care for her. Her, and Nightingale, both of them are precious to me. She had never had anyone like that before, never felt such a deep connection to her fellow Redeemers, nor the associates she'd had who worked with her. She'd never even been close with her father. He had been reasonably affectionate to her outside of his work, but his duties as the Confessor had been too demanding for him to spend much time with her before she had officially joined the Redeemers, and after that her duties had been almost as demanding as his, often more so once she had become the Absolutor.
But now, she had that connection, that closeness, with both of her friends. Nightingale had been with them for a shorter time, and yet somehow, she knew that she and Nearl had both come to care deeply for her. And now, she had saved their lives.
She smiled, realizing that she'd gone quiet for quite some time, and released her grip on Margaret's hand. "I'm just glad you're all right," she repeated, and Margaret smiled up at her.
"Yes, I am, thanks to Nightingale, and you. Want me to take a look at you?" Nearl looked over at Nightingale. "No offense intended, of course."
"No, I don't mind," Nightingale replied quietly. "I don't even really know what I did, so you definitely should."
"Okay then," Margaret said, her aura brightening and enveloping both of them. She laid a hand gently on Shining's forehead, willing her to heal. She could sense some minor injuries, and some major ones not yet fully repaired, and focused on them, using her Arts as deftly as she could to mend them. She knew she lacked the fine skill of Shining when it came to healing some things, but battle injuries were her forte, and she had little difficulty in repairing these.
"Thank you," Shining said with a quiet smile. She stood, picking up their travel packs from where they'd been thrown by the blast. "It looks like you're just about beat, Nightingale. I'll carry you for the first stretch." She handed the packs to Nearl, bending down and picking Nightingale up. "Let's go. We lost some time there, and it would be a good idea to get some distance between ourselves and this place. The noise is sure to attract animals, and if there's one such creature about, there may be others."
XXXX
"What's that?" Nightingale asked, over Nearl's shoulder. She turned back, trying to meet the dark-horned woman's gaze, but couldn't quite manage it, still a bit stiff from her injuries and the rapid healing they'd undergone. It had been three days since their encounter with the Infected monstrosity. Instead, she looked ahead, and realized what Nightingale was asking about.
"That's a town, Nightingale. A small one, but it's mobile, which is why all the different parts are connected. They can move it in case of a Catastrophe, so long as they have any advanced warning," she explained. "We're going to stop there for a day or so. You need better clothes than that, and we need to restock on provisions. In the meantime, though, we'll also open a clinic, so people who need our help can come by and be healed. Since you seem to have a gift for that, Shining and I would be glad if you were willing to help us, but we'll need to find some kind of focus for you first."
"I do want to help," Nightingale said quietly. Margaret nodded, and quickened her pace, hurrying towards the town.
The guards at the perimeter waved them in, after giving them a once-over. "Don't start any fights, don't try to sell anything illegal, don't steal anything, and we won't have any issues," the captain growled at them. "Welcome to Savaur."
Savaur was a larger town than Clastorn had been, several thousand people at the least. "We should see to lodgings first," Shining suggested. She gestured to a signpost which provided direction to a couple of restaurants and an inn called the Hunting Horn. "Let's go see what this inn is like."
The inn was ordinary, although well-built. A minute or so of discussion with the proprietor revealed that there was a room able to take all three of them. Shining pulled out a wallet and paid the owner in some odd currency that Margaret didn't recognize, neither the blue polymer of Lungmen dollars nor the solid metal of Kazmierz coin.
"Thank you, ma'am," the man said, tucking the thin plates of embossed metal away in a drawer. "Your room is upstairs, then down the hall to your left, the third door on the right." He handed them an envelope.
They followed his directions, Nightingale leaning heavily on Nearl's arm as they made their way up to the second floor and down to their room. Shining opened the envelope, pulling out a key, and unlocked the door, nodding in approval as she swung the door open. "Heavy, and it opens outward. Whoever designed this inn made sure the rooms would be secure."
They deposited their bags in the room, locked it behind them, then made their way downstairs. "I'm… a bit hungry," Nightingale mentioned as they walked down the stairs.
"Excuse me," Margaret asked at the desk. "Is there a good place to eat close by?"
"Well, our dining room is closed until the evening meal, but there's Raguto's. I know the owner, and he sets a good table. It's just a block or so down the street."
"Thank you." She nodded politely, and they headed outside. Nightingale stared around in outright awe at the town. She clearly couldn't remember ever having seen a town before, and the people and buildings must have been astonishing to her. They reached a building with a sign reading "Raguto's Diner" over a bowl of steaming soup, and turned inside.
A long counter ran across one wall, some stoves and ovens behind it. Tables were scattered throughout the room. A young Sarkaz woman came up to them. "Table for three?" Margaret nodded, and she guided them back to a table, then handed them menus.
"How…" Nightingale asked, lost. Shining smiled in gentle amusement.
"The menu," she held hers up, "has a list of the food they sell here. When she comes by for our orders, you ask her for the dish you'd like, and the cook will make it for you, then she'll bring it out to the table." Nightingale nodded tentatively, studying the menu like some kind of textbook for a difficult subject. Margaret looked over at Shining, their eyes meeting in a shared moment of amusement, seasoned with sad awareness of how Nightingale had come to this pass.
Margaret glanced down at her menu as she saw the waitress making her way back over. She settled on a Siracusan-style pasta in cream sauce just as the young woman arrived. "What'll it be?"
Nightingale clearly hadn't made up her mind, so Nearl ordered first. Shining placed her order next, for some kind of local grilled sandwich that Margaret had been confused about. Nightingale hesitated when it came to her turn, then ordered the same pasta dish Nearl had.
They ate quietly, except for a few exclamations on the first few bites, as all three of them took the opportunity to enjoy some food that wasn't travel rations. Finally, Nightingale set her fork down, relaxing with a sigh. "That is… the best food I can ever remember having. Thank you very much."
Margaret nodded, smiling. "It was good, wasn't it?" Shining nodded too, then pushed her chair back, leaving a few more of the odd plates of metal on the table.
"Let's go," she said quietly, eyes flickering over the room. "We ought to check in with the local constabulary before setting up our clinic. We wouldn't want to violate any laws in doing so." Margaret heard the unspoken subtext. And she's seen someone here she recognizes, and wants to be gone before that person recognizes her too.
"Right," she said, pushing her chair back and standing up, slinging her pack onto her shoulder and helping Nightingale out of her chair. "Do you know where to go to do that?" Shining nodded, and the three of them hurried out of the restaurant.
Shining led them down the road, taking a few turns near conveniently reflective windows, until she nodded in satisfaction, then walked up to a nearby guardsman, catching his attention by clearing her throat.
"Sir, is there any regulation on traveling salesmen, tinkers, or similar individuals setting up a stall or workspace?"
"Yeah. All such stalls need to be set up at the town square, and someone from the town will be by throughout the day to assess tax on your sales. Got it?" he asked, not unkindly.
"Understood. We don't intend to charge for our services. Is there any need to pay a tax, then?"
"There will be a minimum fee, based on how large an area you're taking up. I assume that you can afford to pay?"
Shining nodded, then turned, leading them down the street, away from the town square. "Where are we going?" Nightingale asked. "Wasn't that open area the town square?"
"Yeah," Margaret said, "but we need to get you your focus first. After all, we want you to be able to help us with the healing without endangering yourself. Is that where we are going, Shining?"
"Yes," the white-horned woman answered, gesturing ahead. A carefully built storefront ahead advertised what it handled without a single sign, the triple-paned polymer of its windows with carefully designed air exchangers shouting louder than any words that this place handled dangerous materials.
"This place creates Originium Arts focus items for use by adepts. I personally haven't purchased any of their items, but I know several powerful casters who have, and they've all had good things to say." She pushed the door open. A sign on it warned customers that they might be exposing themselves to Originium dust and particles by entering the store.
Margaret pulled out her respirator, then froze. Nightingale didn't have one. Shining drew one out and handed it to the dark-horned woman, quietly instructing her in how to put it on. "Shining… but you aren't… you should be…" Nearl tried to put into words her concern, but Shining just closed her eyes and shook her head.
"You two are actually Infected, and should take care of yourselves. I will be fine," she said calmly. Then she entered, looking about, and Margaret followed her, helping Nightingale over the threshold. She looked around, and drew in her breath as much as the breath mask would let her.
Elegant, expertly crafted staffs and wands lined the walls. The humming tension of the leashed Originium's power would have been evident even to someone without any ability to use Arts, much less an adept like herself. She cast her eyes over them. Her mace, which also served as her focus, was excellent… but there were pieces here that she recognized as superior craftsmanship, even if they wouldn't fit her Arts as well as hers did. An elderly Sarkaz man, one eye completely obscured by a cluster of Oripathy lesions, clearly suffering from advanced symptoms, entered the room slowly. "Who's there?" he asked, his voice raspy with age.
"We're looking for a focus for our friend," Margaret said clearly. The elderly man came around the counter, peering carefully at the three of them. First, he inspected Margaret. His eye met her eyes, and she felt strangely exposed, until his eye moved on, tracing over her powerful build, taking in her armor, travel gear, and then settling on the mace hanging at her side. He reached out, touching it gently. "Ah," he said quietly, in a tone of complete understanding. He turned away to look over Shining next. Margaret watched him, and saw him flinch as he met her eyes. He reached out, trembling, and jerked his hand back almost as soon as he had touched Shining's blade. Tears leaked out of his remaining eye, and he shook his head sadly. Then he turned to Nightingale. "And this is the one who needs to find her power, yes…" He met her eyes, then turned away almost immediately. "I see."
He crossed to the wall, reaching up immediately, with a smoothness that almost belied his age and illness. His grip settled on one staff in particular, and he lifted it out of its bracket, turning to Nightingale. A long, black wood grip with copper inlays led to a crooked end, which supported a birdcage-like structure, holding a pale blue crystal of pure Originite. "This is for you, little bird." He extended the staff to Nightingale, and she reached out her hand, settling her grip on it.
Shining reached into her pocket, pressing a single thick disk of some white metal into Nightingale's hand. "Pay him, Nightingale," she said quietly. "This is yours." Margaret watched as Nightingale held it out.
"I see. This is more… more than the staff is worth. So, I will balance the scales. I am old, and I know something of the shape of the world." He looked from Nightingale to each of the others. "So heed my advice, knight of radiance, black fiend, white fiend. The three of you are meant for each other. Each of you has found her salvation with her companions. Follow each other, and you can never lose your way."
Margaret felt a shiver go through her, some spark connecting the three of them flickering brighter. "Thank you," she said quietly.
The three of them took their leave of the shop, Nightingale supporting herself with the staff. The small bird that had followed her around fluttered down from the sky, perching on the crook that supported the Originium crystal, chirping gently.
They reached the town square, and Nearl and Shining set up their tent as a barricade to provide some privacy to their patients. Shining fashioned an odd-looking rune, which she said was old Sarkaz for "healer," and tied it to the tent, where it was on ready display.
They were much less busy than they had been at either the refugee camp or Clastorn, but for all that they still had plenty of work to do. Once the townsfolk realized that they really did mean it about not charging for their aid, they had a respectable line waiting for assistance with injuries.
Nightingale learned quickly. Her arts were slower to heal than Margaret's, and certainly less potent than Shining's, but she could handle multiple patients at once, which impressed both of them significantly. All of them were kept busy, though, trying hard to make sure everyone who arrived received the care they needed.
In one of their brief breaks, though, Margaret looked at Shining and Nightingale. "Nightingale… We have been hoping for a while that we could find some way to help people who are Infected. You said, a while ago, that your Arts could suppress other Arts. I'd like to try something to help this patient." She gestured at the young woman lying on the blanket they'd set up for their patients, recovering from a tricky bit of healing by Shining to mend a broken bone that had started to set wrong. "Ma'am, do you mind if we try something? I'd like to see if we can help with your Oripathy."
The young woman shrugged, gesturing at the lesions on her arm. "Go ahead." Her tone was cynically unhopeful, but she couldn't hide the flash of hope in her eyes. "It's pretty bad, I'm not likely to last for more than a year or two if you don't do something about it."
Nearl focused, pressing out her aura to boost the young woman's natural healing. "Now, Nightingale. Try to focus on the Originium in her bloodstream and the fused cells, and suppress their energy and activity." She felt an odd flickering against her aura as Nightingale's Arts reached out. "Shining, are you ready?"
The black-clad woman nodded, and reached her hand out, the square dimming for quite some distance around the four of them. Near-solid light flared out, slipping into the young woman's body. Margaret could feel that, too, as the purifying light sought out the smaller areas of fused cells and burned them away, purging the patient's bloodstream of the elevated level of Originium in it as well, cauterizing off parts of the lesions that were more aggressively active. Shining winced, finally, and cut her Arts off quickly. Nightingale had also flinched at almost the exact same time, but held her concentration for longer, before breaking it off. Nearl let her Arts go a bit before Nightingale did. Her awareness had shown her exactly what had happened.
"We weren't able to cure you," she said somewhat apologetically. "But we were able to remove some of the more dangerous lesions, reduce your blood Originium levels, and reduce most of the other lesions. It's not a cure, but that should set the progress of the disease back significantly."
The young woman looked up at her in awe. "Amazing… I never thought…" She shook herself. "I have to know… who are you?"
Margaret froze. She wasn't ashamed of her name, but her companions… Shining saved her, speaking up. Of course, Nearl thought, as Shining said it. Follow each other, and we will never lose our way. "We are the Followers," the black-robed Sarkaz said.
XXXX
The next day, and the next, the three strange women plied their trade in the town square, curing and healing. Even the Infected could receive their treatment, and come away with the progress of their Oripathy greatly reduced. It wasn't a cure, but it was still viewed as near-miraculous. Some in the town thought it might be a good idea to try to apprehend the women, or force them to stay, to keep them around to cure the Infected of the town. Others pointed out that at least one of them was a notable Kazmierzan warrior, and none of them looked like people to trifle with.
Besides, they were good guests to the town, and nobody really wanted to bring them harm. Nobody, that is, except another traveler, who had turned up occasionally at their clinic but never sought treatment, always appearing when Shining was otherwise occupied.
It took almost two days for him to be sure of his facts, but he was. So that's where you disappeared to, Absolutor. I'm certain the Confessor will be most interested to hear of this. The disappearance of his daughter and the leader of his strongest forces had infuriated the Confessarius, and he would be sure to reward the informer who brought him word of her whereabouts well.
And so it was that when the Followers packed their bags, leaving the town and heading northwest, he also saddled up, gossiping pleasantly with the townsfolk about their miraculous visitors, gleaning their plans from a few bits of conversation here and there, and rode his burdenbeast out of town, heading southwest towards the heart of Kazdel.
