Page 87 of The Last One
He lifts an eyebrow. “Does the man notseeyou?”
“He does, but it’s complicated,” I say. “He’s kind. He’s brave. He’s a pleasure to behold.”
Veril snorts. “You can do better.” He rolls up the blanket and arranges it beneath my leg, providing slight relief from the incessant throbbing.
I place a finger to my lips. “Let me guess. You have a nephew over in Pethorp you want me to meet.”
Veril chortles and returns to the chest for a bar of soap, a sponge, a large towel, and a clean linen robe the color of flames. “Call if you need me,” he says, tottering from the room.
The water that Veril left is cool against my skin. The soap smells of fresh lemon and mint. The sponge is clean and fluffy. I look over my shoulder to see if I can glimpse the marking there. No luck. I try to glimpse the marking beneath my left breast. I spot only a shape that could be a box.
Once I’m cleaned up and wrapped in the robe, Veril rolls in a chair with wheels. “You may join me up front if you wish—that’s where I’ll be preparing more poultices for your injuries as well as breakfast.”
Whatever he’s cooking smells incredible. “I’d like to come up front with you, please.” I wiggle to the edge of the bed.
After he rolls me to the worktable, he shuffles to the hearth. There, a kettle bubbles into the fire. He plucks a leaf from a plant twisting around the cupboard and tears it over the brew. “How did you come to acquire such a special pendant, if I may ask?”
“I don’t remember how I acquired it,” I say, frowning, “but it’s always been mine. You’re not suggesting that Istoleit, are you?”
“I’msuggestingthat amulets like the one you wore are extremely rare. I haven’t seen one in person in ages. And yet here you are, wearing one. Or youwereuntil…”
“It’s mine,” I say. “It was made for me even though I don’t…” I twist my hands in my lap, clamp my lips, and square my shoulders. “Recent events have caused me to forget some things.”Some?“Some memories are missing.”
“If you hit your head fighting burnu,” Veril says, chuckling, “you should be happy that your memory is the only part of you that’s missing.”
Will I have to admit to everyone I meet that a big part of me is missing? That I can no longer recall what I was doing prior to a few mere dawns ago? That I no longer remember my surname or the shape of my mother’s face? Something about this kindly Renrian makes me want to trust him, and I know I will eventually open up to him. For now, though…
“What do you know about amulets like mine?”
Veril stares into his bubbling pot. “I know that they are special and hold powerful magic that is inaccessible even to me…and to most. Its wearer—any wearer—will be endowed with whatever qualities are attributed to it, but only the true owner can access its full capabilities.”
“So it wouldn’t betotallyuseless to someone…?”
Like Olivia. Or Philia. Or even Jadon.
“Nottotallyuseful, but not completelyuseless.Definitely not safe to wear for anyone other than its owner. That’s because amulets are blessed pieces. There are repercussions for blocking another’s blessing, yes?” He peers back at me. “No, it’s never wise to wear the items not made for you…except for that linen robe. You look lovely—better than I ever did. That shade of tangerine makes you look healthier than you are.”
I tap my hair, mocking my trampled beauty. “And if someone finds my pendant and wears it?”
“If they wear it for a prolonged time, it will be the last thing they’ll wear.Ever.”
“Well, I’ve certainly survived wearing it so far.”
Though this is some fucked-up surviving.
The Renrian brings a stool to sit before me with a brush and jar of oil that smells of rosemary and eucalyptus. With great care, starting at the top of my thigh, he removes the gauze to expose the violent gash. “Sometimes,” he says, slathering the thick concoction over my bare leg, “the best thing to do when healing is nothing at all. You’ll need to be still for a few days, dearest. Let the medicines work.”
He brushes my leg with oil and then rolls the gauze back over the wound. “Now be still as I look at…” He pushes the tangerine-colored robe aside and peels away more gauze to peer at the wound on my hip. “That is the ugliest thing these walls have ever seen.” He straightens, then dips his brush into the salve. “You’re lucky to be sitting upright in this chair, Just Kai.”
I wince as the oil seeps into my skin.
He works in silence for a moment, then says, “Tell me. What brought you to the dreary hamlet of Maford? And what brought you here to these woods? How in all the realms did you end up requiring my services after a fight with burnu?”
I may be hurting, but that doesn’t mean I can’t laugh, and so I do. “That’s a long story.”
“We have plenty of time,” he says.
True. So, I tell him everything—from Olivia stealing my necklace and Wake’s men invading the village, from Sybel scolding me, Elyn and her threats and otherworldly creatures, to our flight from Maford. Through my entire tale, Veril listens with interest, not scoffing or doubting. Occasionally he nods but never interrupts or interjects.
