3 Healer (Part 3)

Chapter 1: Healer (Part 3)

Adrian reaches for his amulet now, as he did a dozen times a day, feeling the usual flow of energy from wizard to amulet. Wizards continually produced flash, a magical energy. Amulets stored flash until enough accumulated to do something worthwhile. Without an amulet, flash leaked away, and was of no use to anyone.

His father had given him this hand-me-down amulet two years ago, on his eleventh name day, along with a lecture on all the bad things that would happen if he abused or misused it.

Adrian had worn the amulet—carved in the shape of a hunter—on a chain around his neck ever since. He'd trained hard in the use of magic—most often with his father, when he was home, elsewise with some of his father's handpicked friends. Yet it had made no difference. His older sister, Hana, was dead, and his little sister, Lyss, was heartbroken. And Adrian needed to get out of town.

If his da wasn't in the castle close, and if he hadn't rides out, he'd be somewhere in the city. Likely Ragmarket or Southbridge. Adrian headed for the markets.

To call them "markets" these days was being generous. With Solstice just over, the shelves had been cleared of what little food there was. There was nothing on offer but some tired-looking root vegetables that had been held back till now was so as to fetch the best prices. His father said it reminded him of the hard times during the reign of Queen Marianna, when there was never enough to eat. Or during Arden's siege of Fellsmarch Castle, when they had contests to come up with new recipes for barley.

Hard times are back, Adrian thought, if they ever left. For Solstice, the royal family had dined on venison, courtesy of their upland clan relations. Otherwise, it would have been ham and barely pies (light on ham, heavy on barely).

Not that it mattered. None of them had much of an appetite. It was the first midwinter since Hana died.

Around him, the market was waking up, first, the baker, produce selling, and fishmongers. Then the a secondhand shops selling hard-worn, picked over goods (all claimed to be clan-made). This was his father's home ground. He'd once ruled this neighborhood as the notorious street lord of the Ragger gang.

Adrian always drew attention, too, when he walked the markets. He was too easy to pick out as Han Alister's son, with his red hair and wizard's glow. Today it seemed worse than usual—he felt the pressure of eyes upon him wherever he went, the prickle on the back of his neck that meant he was being watched. He guessed it was because he'd been in the camps in the mountains when Hana died, and he hadn't Ben down to the markets since.

He asked after his da in several of the market stalls. Nobody had seen him, but they all sent their good wishes for a brighter new year.