“When that Death Lily had us in its grip, I had an up close and personal view of its seedpods.”

Loren cocked his head, staring at the body. “So, public sentiment turns on the healers, and it’s the last days of the Guild. Again, why are those seeds worth protecting? Do you think they might have something to do with the plague?”

Belen shrugged. “Possible.”

“Are there any records?” I asked, scanning the crates stacked on the shelves nearby. Nothing.

“This puzzle will have to wait,” Kerrick said. “The snow is piling up outside.”

“What about the body?” Quain asked, hefting the crate he had found. “Should we feed another Death Lily? Or don’t they like the crunchy ones?” No one was amused by his sarcasm.

We retraced our steps and climbed the stairs. Belen closed the door, and leaned a large piece of stone against it. “That should keep the snow and wind out.”

About four inches of snow had fallen since we entered the record room. Following Kerrick, I noticed the quiet stillness of the forest. I was glad for my fur-lined boots, but worried about our tracks. They would be visible until the winds swept them away.

Quain saw me glance back and said, “If Kerrick’s not fussing about our tracks, that means no one is close enough to us.” He gazed at his leader. “He always knows where the mercs are hiding in the woods. Do you know anything about that, Avry? Or is it his story to tell?” He shook the crate in his hands. “What other secrets are you hiding from us?”

I didn’t want to increase his agitation so I didn’t answer. Instead, I wondered if he would have the courage to question Kerrick directly or just make sarcastic comments until I or Kerrick told him.

No one was surprised when Kerrick led us to a cave. I watched Quain add another uncanny skill to Kerrick’s list. The snow made it difficult to find firewood. All our piles, except Kerrick’s, were meager.

Dinner was a quiet affair, more so because we were tired from uncovering the records room than because of an all-consuming grief for Flea. The grief would never go away completely, but it would fade into a background ache. Being survivors of the plague, these men had so many people to grieve for; it had to be numbing. Me, too, but I couldn’t claim to be a survivor of the plague since, in another odd quirk of the disease, healers were immune to it.

Why hadn’t the healers caught the plague, too? We sickened with other ailments like everyone else; we just recovered faster. But there had been no reports of a healer contracting the plague unless they’d assumed it from a victim. At least once we sickened, we were never contagious to others.

Quain started his questions soon after we had finished cleaning the stew pot. Loren gave him a warning look until he realized that Quain was determined. Then his focus shifted to Kerrick. Belen, too, kept his gaze on Kerrick. I couldn’t read Belen’s expression, which was unusual, or Kerrick’s, which wasn’t.

“You are going to explain what’s going on,” Quain said. It was a statement not a question.

Kerrick looked at me.

“Don’t blame Avry. She didn’t say a word,” Quain said. “I just started putting things together.”

“What do you think is going on, then, Quain?” Kerrick asked.

“Don’t you pull that stunt on me. I’m not Flea.”

“How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time?” Loren asked him.

Quain hopped to his feet and loomed over Loren as if he wanted to punch him. Unfazed, Loren peered up at him in amusement.

Belen chuckled. “He found all the pieces, but can’t put them together.”

Quain whirled on him, clearly upset.

“Avry isn’t the only one here gifted with magic,” Belen said.

Understanding dawned. The furrows in Quain’s brow and bald head smoothed. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Can I quote you?” Loren asked.

Quain tackled him and they wrestled, rolling on the ground.

Kerrick peered at his friend. “How long?”

“Since you were sixteen. Loren and Flea didn’t figure it out until Avry came along and made things…interesting.”

“Hey,” I said, pretending to be affronted. “If you don’t want interesting, I can leave,” I teased.

However, his response was dead serious. “But would you? If I sat on Kerrick and let you go, would you?”

“I gave my word.”

“Under duress. I’m offering you the chance to walk away. Would you take it?”

The monkeys stopped wrestling. Everyone’s attention focused on me, burning into my skin.

Belen wouldn’t shut up. “I watched them arrest you back in Jaxton. You didn’t resist or try to get away. Not the Avry I’ve come to know.”

“What do want me to say?” I whispered.

“Do you want to leave?” Belen asked.

Don’t do this to me.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked again.

Conflicted emotions knotted in my throat. I wished to go back and make amends with my sister, but I didn’t want to leave the guys, either. They had become my family.

“The truth, Avry.”

“No. Pathetic, isn’t it?” Unable to meet anyone’s gaze, I stumbled out into the snow.

Breathing in deep lungfuls of damp air, I kept close to the cave’s entrance. Storm clouds blocked the moon, and a silent blackness surrounded the area. Snowflakes struck my face with tiny pricks of cold. While I wished to put distance between me and the others, I knew I’d just get lost in the darkness.

Although, I already felt lost. Perhaps confused was a better word. Belen forced me to admit I had a reason for living. Since I’d been with them, I’d healed people, found my sister and made a friend. As I gained more incentives to live, I also learned more about the uncertain future of our world. It would be so much easier to agree to heal Ryne if I had nothing to lose.

Belen’s heart was in the right place. He didn’t know the consequences if I healed Ryne. If he had, it would tear him apart. I was sure that’s why Kerrick hadn’t told him, and I wouldn’t, either. However, I’d made the mistake of getting too attached to them. I needed to keep my distance. To stay uninvolved.

No one said a word when I returned to the cave. I brushed the snow from my hair and cloak, then set up my bedroll. Pulling my blanket up to my chin, I vowed to keep my emotions in check. To keep my distance from everyone. To gather as much information about Ryne as I could to make an informed and logical decision regarding him. I would also learn more about the plague, if possible. My confusion was replaced by determination.

After another full day of snow, the winds came. The fire pulsed, and the cave echoed with the shrill keen of the wind. I passed the time by sorting through the crate Quain had found in the records room.

The Guild healers had listed all the remedies, medicines and techniques that had failed to heal the plague. Scanning the list, I was impressed by the sheer number of different things they had tried. Each trial had exhaustive notes about the patient’s response. Nothing cured the disease. Although crushed ginger root mixed with white birch sap helped ease the horrible stomach pains—a small concession.

I created my own list of what I had learned about the plague. It hadn’t discriminated as far as age or gender. No one survived. Those living now never had any symptoms at all. The last known case had been over two years ago. I wondered about the magicians who had survived. Did the plague strike only certain types of magicians?

“I don’t know,” Kerrick said when I asked him. “A few are in hiding, although I’ve no idea who they are. The others have either joined up with Estrid or Tohon.” He sat next to the fire, repairing the leather tie on his boot.

“Do you know what their specialties are?”

He paused, frowning. “Tohon has one earth mage, one rock hound and one fire. Estrid has Jael, a water mage and a moon mage.”

“What’s a rock hound?” Quain asked between gulps of water. He was taking a break from his practice bout with Belen.