“Yes,” said Marian drawing herself up.
“Yes, what?” asked Bri.
Marian withdrew a finger-length stick from her pocket and with a flick of her wrist it turned into a wand. She pointed it at Elizabeth. A hot breeze hit her, rippled over her, shaking her clothes and leaving them with a fresh scent. Her panties had dried. But Elizabeth wasn’t too sure about the efficacy of magical clothes washing.
“Both,” Marian said. “I can cleanse your clothes, even while they’re on you, and we have clothes for you. Both of you.” She went into the bedroom and came back with two robes of dark red with white crosses on them. Medica tunics, one knee length, the other mid-calf. The shorter one buttoned tight around the wrist for several inches, so the sleeves didn’t get in the way of anything. The longer one had wider sleeves that came to the elbow.
Another heavy ripple of noise came from the door, obviously impatient. The knob turned and Sevair Masif strode in, followed by a hesitant person wearing the shorter medica robe.
“What is taking so long?” The tone more than his words held meaning. He stopped and stared at Bri. Blinked. Swallowed. A hint of red came to his cheeks. Bri sent him a grin, then slipped the tunic over her head and wiggled into it. The robe fell past her knees and she looked—marginally—like the other medica. Since the tight lower sleeves didn’t fit well over the thinner silk shirt, Bri rolled up the red sleeves and let the white show. It was a very Bri look: casual, rakish, elegant. Proclaiming to all that she leaned toward New Age. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine Bri in a proper nurse’s uniform. Meanwhile the medica was eyeing Bri’s style.
Elizabeth wasn’t about to add to the show. She looked at the remaining heavier robe with short sleeves. “Not one for each of us at all,” she said. “Two different robes.”
“One for each of you,” Marian said easily, “but in the two different styles that the medicas wear. This one is for traveling.”
Bri took the long tunic, and tossed it over Elizabeth’s head before she could protest, pulling it down over her Earth shirt and slacks, twitching it so it fell smoothly. The hem was long but the sides were cut high for easy movement.
Bri hummed in approval. “Looks good.”
Elizabeth had worn a cream-colored silk shirt and dark blue slacks to their father’s birthday party while Bri had worn stylish jeans and a turquoise shirt.
“It suits both of you,” Alexa said.
“Prie introd moi,” said Sevair.
“This is Sevair Masif, a City and Townmaster, a stonemason and excellent architect of Castleton,” Marian said.
He bowed. “Call me Sevair,” he said. Those were the last words Elizabeth understood of the long stream of sentences, except that the gist was splitting her and Bri up. One for the Castle medicas and one for the City? When she glanced at the medica, she had her hands folded at her waist and was nodding.
As soon as he finished, the medica launched into speech before Elizabeth could ask for a translation. The woman tapped her chest, gestured to the whole Castle, was impassioned. Elizabeth thought she spoke of facilities and training, or an exchange of training, while the man had spoken of need and duty.
The medica paused for a breath and Marian interrupted. “You’re not understanding much of this, are you?”
Bri said, “I lived in Cannes for two years and Elizabeth studied French and visited me.”
“But it’s not quite French, is it?” Marian said.
Everyone stared at them.
Bri looked at Sevair and the medica, inclined her head, and said. “Je ne comprehends pas.”
The medica sighed, looked at Marian.
“Just a drop of language potion,” Jaquar wheedled, drawing a tiny bottle from a pocket of his robe. It sparkled. “A drop would let you test it for a couple of hours.” He flashed a “Trust me, baby,” smile. “You’d be able to speak and understand Lladranan well.”
Elizabeth decided to let Bri handle this and kept her mouth shut.
Bri said, “How many medicas are there?”
“Five here at the Castle,” Alexa said, “the best in the country. The Marshalls can form a healing circle, too.” She shifted, appearing disgruntled. “Though none of us have been able to cure those with the sickness, like you did.”
“They are the Exotique Medicas,” Calli said. “They will have skills that the rest of us don’t. Like I can speak with the volarans, or you can handle that baton.”
Jaquar had strolled over to Bri, lifting a small cork from the bottle. Blinking, Bri could see that the pale lavender liquid inside sparkled a little, even in the tendrils that rose from the bottle. Really odd.
Jaquar waved it under her nose. It smelled wonderful, floral, like all the spring blossoms of a tree. She wanted another sniff, but since it was more like a craving, decided against it.
“Say something, Sevair,” Jaquar ordered—and it wasn’t in English, but sounded perfectly clear and not the mangled French Bri had had to concentrate to untangle.
“We,” Sevair gestured to the medica behind him, “have come to discuss matters. Since there are two Exotique medicas, it is only reasonable one stay here at the Castle and one come with me to Castleton.” Though he sounded as if he was reporting a compromise that didn’t please.
“Split us up!” Bri said, and realized she was speaking French—sort of.
The line between Sevair’s brows dug deeper as if he tried to understand what she said.
But Elizabeth was frowning, too. “What did you say, Bri?” she asked.
“They want to split us up. Send one of us away.”
“Yeah,” Alexa rolled her eyes. “All the way to Castleton. Two miles downhill.”
Bri felt her cheeks pinken. “Oh.”
“Two miles downhill from a Castle on a hill means walking two miles uphill for someone,” Elizabeth said.
“True,” said Bri.
Jaquar waved the vial near Bri’s nostrils again. Wonderful scent. She clenched her teeth, then said, “How much would give me language skills for the day?”
Marian’s gaze met Jaquar’s. She cleared her throat. “Language skills, ah. You might be interested to know that during sex there is a definite transfer of the language with your partner. That is to say, you’ll get Lladranan. They get English too, but there’s not much chance to practice it.”
Bri moved until she was shoulder to shoulder with Elizabeth. “We look like the easy types to you?”
Marrec shook his head. “No Exotique is easy. Not a one.”
“Pity,” said Bastien.
Jaquar said, “Two drops for today lasting perhaps until tomorrow noon.”
The medica stepped farther into the room and said something that escaped Bri. You understand that? she asked Elizabeth.
No. “Please translate,” Elizabeth said. She’d tensed up again.
The other Coloradan women shared a glance, grouped together and murmured a bit, then Marian looked at the twins and said, “She speaks in words and concepts that we are not sure of, even though we have done Song healing. Something about wanting to consult you about the rhythmic cycles of each energy point-pulse.” Marian didn’t look pleased that she didn’t get it.
Bri turned a little to Elizabeth. If I try, I can hear each chakra tune. Can you?
Elizabeth