Page 165 of A Baron of Bonds
I chewed my lip as the Blightress studied me.
There could only be so many different combinations of bones. I just needed to work at it to get them fitting correctly.
I began with the long ones. I had no idea of their names, but, recalling some of Clairannia’s medicus books, I knew most of the bones in the hand were long and thin. I had no clue what to do with the pile of eight oddly curved pieces.
I found the shortest of the five longer bones, unsure if it was a part of my thumb or littlest finger. I set it down and looked for the longest instead, assuming it would fit below my forefinger…maybe my middle one?
I groaned, eyeing my conduit ring, actually contemplating tapping out of this one.
Howhad Figuerah passed this trial?
I tried to think like her. She was clever, observant, she held no fear either—quite the woman to behold, in my favorable opinion.
I flexed my left hand, hoping I could somehow catch a glimpse at the bone structure under my skin.
I frowned, looking up at the Blightress. “Can channeler magic cut through skin?”
She grinned wickedly, her iridescent eyes a rainbow of color in the lantern light. “Why don’t you try, Little Sprout?”
I chewed on my lip again, my gaze flicking from my healthy left hand to my open right.
I summoned my power, thinking of a thin, sharp knife which formed in green above the only working hand I had.
If I cut into my left hand, I could see exactly which bone went where. But I wasn’t sure how much it would hurt, or if it would stay that way for the last trial. Guessing by my knee wound, it would.
I couldn’t just use a spell to mend my hand, either. And what if I needed both hands to complete the agricola trial next?
I huffed.
The other two trials had been more than they initially seemed. Maybe there was something similar to this one. Surely, not every channeler adept to medicus magic knew exactly the right positions of each of these bones.
There was more to this than a horrifying bone reconstruction, I was sure. Medicus conduits did more than heal wounds. They couldfeeltheir way through the body, finding the sources of pain and ailments that could not be seen on the outside.
When the Black Fever had ravaged through Hyrithia, the medicus conduits had been completely perplexed, finding no source of the sickness in the bodies of its victims.
I knew now that was because Heimlen was manipulating the disease through a channeler’s magic, which was something innate and in the core of a magic wielder.
I straightened my shoulders and closed my eyes, imagining the inside of my left hand. I focused on each bone as I drummed my fingers. Each movement was precise, each flick was using at least one of them and if I was ever to do the same with my right, I needed to see each one’s place.
I fell into my own body, seeking that pattern, that array of bones completed in my left hand, laying it flat on the table as I picked up the first of the oddly rounded bones with a wisp of my magic.
I placed it opposite of the one I could sense on my left, using my magic to set it gently in my right hand. I picked up the next, this one more like a round pebble, placing it snug against the last.
I continued with each of the eight smaller pieces, a bottom row of four, followed by a top row of another four. I kept my gaze bleary, no longer in that room, but inside my left hand instead, moving on to the longer bones, using my magic to pick up each one.
The shortest was my thumb, and I snapped it into place, picking up what I saw next—my second longest. I followed along with the other three, hearing a satisfying click with my littlest finger, opening my eyes to see the pins falling away and my skin reforming with sinew over each bone, closing without a scar to remember I had put my own hand back together.
“Impressive, Karus. I thought for sure you were going to cut into your other hand and bleed all over this table.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would have loved to see that,” I retorted, standing and walking around the desk to the portal that had appeared after my last bone was set.
“I would not,” she replied.
I studied my hand again, flexing my fingers. Taking a deep breath and assuring myself that none of what I’d just done was real, I stepped through to the last trial.
Chapter 72
Rev
