Heart's Magic by Gail Dayton Read Free Book Online Page B

salve and other things best not thought
on. "Signora Carteret, if you might open my bag for me?"
    Pearl obliged. She had
shared Elinor's flat during her very short apprenticeship, before
achieving master's status and then marrying Grey on Boxing Day a
few weeks ago. Elinor considered her a good friend.
    "There." Rosato pointed at
a jar in the bag. "That one, in the blue bottle--"
    Pearl pointed for
confirmation and the dottore nodded. "Try to get it down him," he said. "All of
it. It will sustain him."
    Five more minutes passed,
or perhaps ten. Elinor didn't know. Between them, Pearl and Amanusa
managed to pour most of Rosato's potion down the unconscious wizard
while Elinor and the Italian labored over his burns.
    "That's helping," Amanusa
said a little while later. "So is what you're doing. He is in less
pain, which puts less strain on his heart and other
organs."
    "It needs more magic in
it." Elinor looked in her quiver, but it was empty. Had they fallen
out? Or maybe she dropped them.
    "This wot you're hunting?"
Harry held out a trio of wands. Maple, ash and pine.
    Elinor took up the pine
wand. She'd left it empty, ready to fill with whatever magic she
needed, since pine was a soft wood and took up magic quickly. It
was also slightly astringent. Well-suited to healing magic, since
it had cleansing and healing properties of its own.
    Elinor called those
properties out of the wood, shaped it for her purposes, adjusted
the magic to match the healing ointment, and sent it back through
the wand into the ointment glistening on Cranshaw's blackened and
blistering body.
    "The burns are healing."
Rosato's quiet words held awe. He said it again, louder. "The burns
are healing. You can watch them heal. The ointment made by Signorina Elinor Tavis is
master-level work. So I, Antonio Rosato, master wizard, do
say."
    "Challenger Tavis defended
herself." Norwood's booming Northern accent echoed through the
room. "She defended herself and unarmed noncombatants from a
sneaking, cheating, cowardly attack. That attack alone, using
illegal magic not created by the contender, disqualifies Nigel
Cranshaw from membership in the Magician's Council of Great
Britain." His statement brought a burst of noise from the crowd,
who had been moved back behind the rails by the Briganti. Gathmann
started back toward the dais.
    "Bravo, Thom," Harry said
quietly, clapping Norwood on the shoulder.
    "Only fair, sir. I've never
seen a braver lass," Norwood muttered, color staining his cheeks.
"Not that I think she should have been at risk."
    "She wasn't, though, was
she? Not with that magic. Throwing the wands--who'd 'ave thought?"
    "Silence!" Gathmann had to
impose his magic over the rising babble of shouting and argument
again, as he climbed back onto the platform. "First--" He pointed
his gavel at the knot of healers around Cranshaw, releasing the
spell on them.
    Elinor and Rosato both were
sitting back on their heels, holding their ointment-sticky hands up
where they wouldn't touch anything, watching Cranshaw heal. Now
they looked up toward the dais. Amanusa still bent over the burned
man's head, touching a pair of fingertips lightly to his
temple.
    "Will Cranshaw survive his
burns?" Gathmann asked.
    "He'll live," Amanusa
murmured.
    Elinor looked at Dr. Rosato,
who raised an eyebrow at her. "He is your patient, signorina, " he
said.
    Oh. Right. If she wanted
women to be leaders, she had to be willing to speak in public from
time to time. Harry took her rather squishy hand and assisted her
to her feet.
    "Yes, Herr Gathmann," Elinor called out,
using magic to be heard through the whole room. "Mr. Cranshaw will
live. His burns will heal. He may even be able to use his hand
again some day." She took the handkerchief Harry gave her and began
cleaning off her hands.
    A rustle of silenced
movement flowed around the room at that announcement.
    "Thank you, Fraulein Tavis, for
offering your talents to heal him." Gathmann gave one of his stiff
little heel-clicking