A Shaper's Promise Read online

  A SHAPER’S PROMISE

  Karen MacRae

  This a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © Karen Lesley MacRae 2018

  All rights reserved

  Published by Little Silver Publishing Ltd 2018

  PB ISBN 978-1-912828-02-9

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-912828-03-6

  In memory of Ann Clark:

  mother, partner, Healer and friend

  PROLOGUE

  H e woke slowly, his head throbbing, his nose prickling from the salt in the cold, damp and absolutely pitch black air. His mind seemed to have temporarily abandoned its duties, refusing to give him an explanation for why he found himself trussed up like a prize chook in… damn, it must be the smugglers’ caves. He weighed up the risk of alerting whoever’d taken offence at his conscious self that he was awake again and decided they’d have killed him already if they’d intended to.

  He worked his mouth with his tongue, trying to generate enough spit to speak, imagining a mouthful of his favourite candied pikas. His stomach growled as his body stuttered into providing some much-needed saliva. “Hello,” he called. The sound echoed into the distance before silence returned.

  No, not silence, he realised, recognising the steady drip of liquid hitting a stone floor from above. He tested his bonds to discover he could get his backside about two hairs’ breadths off the chair and began to shuffle towards the sound. His satisfaction at doing something productive was replaced with a yelp of pain as he toppled backwards with a bone-jarring thud, landing right on top of arms that some nice person had pulled near out their sockets to tie behind the chair.

  Apparently his head hadn’t been satisfied with one injury, he groaned, turning it slightly until a bit of his skull that didn’t hurt quite so much bore its weight. His shoulders and elbows weren’t altogether happy with his new predicament either, screaming insults at his brain for being too slow to remember that the existence of dripping stalactites generally meant the existence of stalagmites too.

  He felt wet spread at the back of his head. Perfect, he thought. I’ll bleed to death because of my own stupidity when all I was probably going to have to do to get out of here was make friends and do some fast talking. For what reason though? His brain refused to play ball. The last thing he could remember was breathing in Alyson Grayson’s intoxicatingly sultry perfume as he’d feathered her neck with ‘until tomorrow night’ kisses then she’d giggled quite delightfully and pushed him out the brothel’s back door. And then… Nope, nothing.

  If rolling his eyes didn’t hurt so much, he’d have mimicked one of Sy’s spectacularly dramatic examples at himself. Blood was warm; cave water was not.

  He twisted his aching head as far as he could and stuck out his tongue, relieved to taste fresh, clean water and not the brine his day probably would have preferred to tease him with. He lapped awkwardly at the shallow stream trickling beneath him until his thirst faded and his body gave in.

  He woke the second time to the echoing sound of heavy footsteps followed by the glow of flickering torchlight beginning to penetrate the gloom. That was a relief, at least: his eyes were still working.

  “Kai!” the newcomer boomed.

  Long, strong arms lifted the chair and his body as one, settling all six feet firmly on level ground. His stomach lurched with the sudden motion and his head took up its pounding drum beat again.

  “I told you not to try moving the chair while I was gone.”

  His brain joined a couple of dots to realise it was his own employer who was mad at him. This was not a good thing. “Georgie, my friend, you must have been warning me while I was out cold. I don’t remember a word. Anyway, I was thirsty.”

  “Light! It never occurred to me. We don’t normally keep ‘em alive for long. Here,” the Rubran thug told him, unplugging a huge water skin to trickle a little lukewarm liquid into his mouth.

  “Why am I here, Georgie?” he asked, sending a full-on blast of his gift into the man before him.

  Big Georgie crashed to his knees in front of his chair, blue eyes welling with tears, shovel-like hands visibly itching to release his best friend from his bindings. “I swear we didn’t want to clobber you, Kai, but you know Grayson. We’d no choice. He threatened the kids and you know full well he’d ‘ve done it if we’d not gone along. We tried to be gentle… I’m real sorry, mate.”

  He nodded without thinking, wincing as a dagger decided to stab his temples in time to the drums. Pain was good news though: one serious punch from the Rubran’s considerable fist would have sent him into the light as surely as a sword thrust through his heart. “Any idea what I’m supposed to have done to deserve this?”

  He could see the struggle in the blue eyes as Big Georgie’s less than razor sharp mind thought on the puzzle.

  “Not a clue, mate,” the Rubran finally confessed. “A bird arrived yesterday, mind. Summat to do wi’ that, I guess. He was practically shaking when he told us to pick you up at his sister’s whorehouse. Angry like a Kydrum ice storm, he was, but he didn’t tell us nothing. Could be…”

  He shut out Georgie’s rambling as he thought on a bird and a girl. Was one, both or something completely different the reason he was here? Some quirk of nature had left Grayson immune to his gift so he knew he’d have to rely on his wits instead. Could the smuggler have discovered his trusted lieutenant had been collecting more than debts? Had he discovered Kai’s real identity? He kept working through the possibilities and the most plausible, innocent explanations for each until his ears picked up the sound of footsteps approaching along the tunnel.

  “Boss, I don’t know what…” he began only to have an oily rag stuffed into his mouth from behind. He heard a loud snarl of “Get out,” then the sound of two heavy men leaving at a run. A few seconds later, the stocky, very dodgy businessman stepped in front of him. The barely suppressed rage in the man’s eyes did not bode well.

  Grayson toyed with a dagger while he waited for his men to get beyond earshot, his eyes roaming Kai’s traitorous face. “You’ll want to know why you’re here. You’re here because someone paid me a fine fee to kill you. You’re not dead yet because you dared to lie to me and lie with my sister.” He drew some quick breaths, trying to control his ire. “You’re a piece of scum,” he spat, fury making his hand shake slightly as he pressed the edge of his blade to Kai’s throat. “You dared to think that you, you nothing piece of dirt, are good enough for my family?”

  The smuggler paused, mesmerised by the sight of sharp steel shining coldly against the womaniser’s white skin. He imagined it slicing through the pulsing throat, Kai’s blood pumping out with every desperate beat of his dying heart. He fought for control not to press the blade home. Finally, willpower and vindictiveness won. He dropped the dagger to his side and leaned in closer, his mouth next to Kai’s ear. “You don’t deserve a quick death. You’re going to die in poverty and torment, sick, crippled and alone. And the news will bring me immense satisfaction.”

  CHAPTER 1

  C olours flickered all around her, a psychedelic rainbow marred by rivers of oily black. They ran from a core of darkest midnight: the poison amassed from two decades of Healing. Yesterday’s treatment had been the final straw. The Healer said nothing of the agony that wracked her, but it was there in each tiny grimace and each bead of sweat that was wiped from her brow. She closed her eyes and her forehead furrowed in concentration as she tried once more to will the pain back behind its gate. It was a temporary relief at best. She saw her daughter reach for her.

  “No.”

  “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”


  “I said no, Anna.”

  And so Anna sat and watched her mother succumb to the Healer’s end, her own gift held in check. After the torture came a final moment of grace when the colours fused together in a brilliant flash of white to burn the black away. Her mother’s familiar dove grey aura shone through fiercely in the aftermath and the corners of her mouth lifted in a tiny smile. It lasted but a heartbeat before the grey light vanished as if blotted by a sudden cloud. Anna probed gently, hoping she might find some remaining bud of life. There was nothing. She was alone.

  The brothel’s household felt the Healer leave, her dealings with them leaving a subtle link in each patient. One by one they entered the room, their heads bowed. One by one they kissed the Healer’s brow and said goodbye, their cheeks wet with tears, their auras tinged with shades of blue. They took comfort from the smile on the Healer’s pale face. Only Anna had witnessed the hours of torment that had come before that pathetic reward for a lifetime’s service to others.

  Alyson was the last to arrive. Her grief was that of a businesswoman who had been bested at a bargain. Irritation and ire. Damnation for the woman who had died too young. Red spikes animated her metallic aura. They would last only as long as it took to replace the Healer come drudge.

  “I’m sorry she died,” she said awkwardly, attempting to sound sympathetic.

  Anna nodded, but her mistress paid no attention. Her mind was already running to more important matters. She looked around the cramped basement home. What furniture could be salvaged? She shuddered. No, it would all have to go. How much would it cost to turn it into another working bedroom? Maybe she could convert it into two bedrooms? Would she need to take on another whore? How many whores would be out of action by the time she found a new Healer? How much would a new Healer cost? Maybe she should risk buying a couple of children instead? She’d have to keep them hidden and they wouldn’t last long without a Healer, but she’d make a lot more per customer visit. Decisions, decisions.

  “You’ll be out of here tomorrow?”

  Anna knew it wasn’t a question despite the lilt at the end. The unsightly birthmark which twisted from her toes to the top of her head like a well-fed constrictor ruled out prostitution, her musical talents were average at best and she had failed the newborn test for Healing. She was unwanted in this establishment.

  “I will.”

  The house was opening soon so the girl prepared her mother’s body alone. Alyson had honoured her head-of-house responsibilities with as little expense as possible. The bindings she left were cheap sheets in off-white, rough cloth. Tomorrow’s cremation would be just as basic, the Healer’s body lumped in with whatever other poor souls had passed into the light today in Straton. Anna would not attend.

  She could hear the sounds of laughter and music from above. Thuds echoed down the chimney as bedheads knocked against walls and springs bounced. If she listened hard, she would make out fake cries of delight and rhythmic grunts. She distracted herself with a multitude of slightly off-key solos: songs from her childhood, songs her mother had sung as she’d cooked and cleaned, songs her mother had sung just because. Each one sparked a dozen memories. It was as honest and loving a goodbye as she could offer. She would miss her terribly.

  This moment had arrived suddenly and much too soon for both of them. The Healer had worried endlessly about what Anna would do when she was gone. Her options were limited. She could scratch out a living as an ungifted servant. She could work as an unapproved Healer, treating the dregs of society, living with the constant risk of exposure and imprisonment. She could travel the Kingdom to Ionantis and seek admission to the Quorum of Gifted. The last sounded the easiest. It would almost certainly end in her death. Her mother had warned against it, but it was her choice, nonetheless. She was done with hiding.

  The girl rose at dawn and dressed quickly. She looked into the age-spotted mirror to see blue eyes rimmed with red. She had spent enough tears during the night to last a lifetime. She pushed back her long, black hair to better reveal her birthmark. It stood prouder than usual against her grief-paled skin. It looked almost exactly like rough snakeskin. Her mother had desperately tried to Heal it each time she’d come in crying because of the cruelty of those who mocked her. She’d learned to hide the pain and shame of not fitting in, of being different. Her hands moved methodically as she slowly covered the scales with heavy powder and added a little colour, morphing from a girl of eighteen into a young woman in her early twenties. Saying a final goodbye to her tightly bound mother, she hoisted the heavy rucksack onto her back.

  The door opened just as she was reaching for the handle.

  “I knew you’d sneak away early. Here, for you, from the girls.” Jenny thrust a bag into Anna’s hands. “It’s not much, but we wanted to do what we could to help.”

  She felt the weight of the moneybag and tears came to her eyes. She could buy a horse. It would take weeks off the journey. Jenny waved away her attempt at thanks.

  “After all your mother did for us? It’s nothing. Susie… Susie wanted me to tell you that she would have refused her help, if she’d known.” Susie, the Healer’s final patient: on bed rest until she fully recovered from the botched abortion her mother had argued against and then saved her from. Jenny changed the subject, uncomfortable in the knowledge that she too had contributed to Anna’s mother’s death. “Do you know where you’re going? What you’re going to do?”

  “I’d like to see if my grandmother’s still alive, but other than that, I have no idea,” Anna lied. No one could know her plan or the reason for it.

  “I got the girls to write some addresses down for you. People you might stay with if you’re out of options. They don’t have much, but they’ll give you a meal and somewhere to sleep for the night, if you need it.”

  Anna looked at the list. Several of the girls had been disowned by families embarrassed at their life choices, but there were a dozen or more names and addresses on it. She’d not heard of most of the locations, but then she knew very little beyond this township.

  “Thanks, Jenny,” Anna said, giving her a quick hug. “Thank everyone else for me, please? And tell Susie… Tell Susie that it’s not her fault.”

  Jenny walked Anna to the back door. She was still there when the girl turned for a last look at the place she’d called home for a decade. A small wave brought her life as a whorehouse Healer’s assistant to an end.

  CHAPTER 2

  A nna kept her face neutral as she considered the animal the horse trader had recommended. It looked sound enough to a novice, if you couldn’t see its aura. She, however, could.

  “It’s a fine beast. Good breeding, docile nature, look at that lovely dappled coat. Perfect horse for a young lady,” the man enthused.

  Anna noticed that he didn’t mention the subtle swelling around the hocks so helpfully pointed out to her by glaring black spots in the horse’s aura. “She’s very pretty, Master Honiton, but a bit expensive for me. Do you have anything cheaper?”

  “She’s all I’ve got. To be honest, I’m reluctant to let her go. Been keeping her aside for my granddaughter, but I’d hate to leave a lady in distress so I might be willing to sell her to you for the right price.” The flicker in his aura belied his words. Anna doubted he even had a granddaughter.

  “It’s possibly the only horse left in town. The traders aren’t due in for a week, but if you can wait…”

  This was the truth at least and he’d correctly guessed which argument to press. She didn’t want to wait. She’d made up her mind to leave town and wasn’t going to back down at the first obstacle. She wasn’t buying this pretty nag though. She’d be as well throwing her coins down a well.

  Master Honiton saw the sale disappearing and made one last push to part the young woman with her money. “I might be able to come down a bit on the price, if that would help.”

  It wouldn’t. Anna was about to leave when she heard a soft whinny from the end of the stable. “What about him?” she asked, point
ing at a large horse almost hidden in the dark of the far stall.

  The man guffawed. “That evil beast? Blue, his name is. Should be Demon. Won’t let anyone near him, never mind ride him!” His mood darkened as he considered the unwelcome squatter. “Owner leaves him here for a night nearly two weeks ago. Two weeks! Could have sold him after three days by rights, but the monster goes half mad if anyone even opens the stable door. Even the damn knacker backed out sharpish. Eating me out of house and home too.”

  “If I could persuade him out?”

  “Hah! If you can persuade him out, I’ll give him to you for free!”

  As the pair walked towards the far stall, the familiar smell of a stable yard intensified until the air was almost putrid with the pungent smell of filthy straw. Anna breathed through her mouth as she looked into the stall. It was too dark to see the gelding’s aura properly, but she could feel the tension radiating from him. She looked around for a lantern. “Can I get some light, please?”

  The trader harrumphed and ripped a piece of sacking off a small window sending a cloud of dust spiralling into the air. Early morning rays struggled through the greasy pane, barely illuminating the corner. It was just enough for the girl to see the horse and its glorious emerald green aura. She wondered what would have to happen to a person to leave this beauty unclaimed. Strong, sure, proud, he would be a wonderful companion, assuming one could get past his current distrust. He regarded the human with a baleful stare, daring her to come closer.

  Anna began to murmur a quiet singsong of reassuring nonsense. “Hello, boy. Aren’t you gorgeous? What’s happened to make you so upset then?” It was mainly for the trader’s benefit, but she could see the huge animal was curious of the small human who spoke kindly to him and softly stroked his nose without touching him with her hand. She kept up the monologue and stroking and managed to get herself inside the stall, close enough to properly make out his aura. There was a reddish-grey cloud over the beast’s forehead. She could sense sadness, confusion and anger. She didn’t know horses could be sad, but what she knew about the psychology of horses would fit on the head of a pin with room to spare.