Cousin of the Wind
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1148
Four Winds Monastery
Padrekki Territory
Cadric sank down into the leather chair in his private room and dropped his head into his hands, his
faulty Cleric’s hands.
“Cadric?”
His palms slid away from his eyes, wet. “Nadeer? Now isn’t a good time, little one.”
The four-year-old hugged the doorway and peered at his foster-father, honey-gold eyes narrowed in
childish consternation. “Why are you sad? They don’t hurt any more.”
“What do you mean?” The Cleric crooked two of his fingers and beckoned to the boy. Nadeer ran to
his side and knelt so he was able to prop his chin on Cadric’s knee. Cadric ran his hands through the
boy’s thick black hair, which had grown nearly to his shoulders. “Who doesn’t hurt any more?”
“The lady and her baby.” Nadeer plucked at a loose thread at the hem of Cadric’s robes.
Cadric’s skin prickled. He and Master Gartris had told Balan to keep the younger boys busy outside of
Four Winds collecting herbs or looking after the horses and sheep. Cadric had assumed Nadeer had
gone along with the older boys. “How did you know about the lady and her baby? You’re not allowed
near the surgery. You know that.”
“I wasn’t there. I was helping Balan feed the lambs.” Nadeer pressed and lifted his finger into the
velvet of Cadric’s robe, entranced as the flattened fabric rose of its own accord. “I could feel the lady
hurt. Right here.” He pointed at his stomach. “It hurt for a long time, but not any more. Where are
they, Cadric? I want to see the baby.” The amber eyes looked up at him, hopeful.
“The—the baby isn’t here, little one.” Cadric’s voice trembled, but Nadeer had returned his attention
to inspecting Cadric’s robes and didn’t seem to notice. Gods. No one should be able to feel someone
else’s pain. “Has this happened before? Can you feel when someone else is hurt when you can’t see
them?”
“Like when Jerek broke his arm? Or when Hern fell off his horse?” He stood and pointed at Cadric’s
face. “I knew you were sad, because my eyes feel tired and puffy, like yours are.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you could feel other people like this?” The Cleric’s voice came out sharper
than he’d meant.
Nadeer pinched his lips together and looked puzzled. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
Of course not. How could he know? The acolytes avoided him, because his dark hair and olive skin
marked him as an Outlander, and the Clerics were often too busy to notice one more small boy acting a
little strange. Nadeer took what he could sense as normal, as if everyone he knew could do it. But they
couldn’t. No one born in tyr Padrek could.
Cadric stood and held out his arms. Nadeer wriggled into them and the Cleric swept him into the air and
balanced the boy on his hip. “I have to go talk to Master Gartris. Would you like to come with me?”
Nadeer nodded and wrapped his arms around Cadric’s neck. “Was the baby a boy or a g—“ the boy’s
voice broke off with a gasp.
“Nadeer? What’s the matter?” He tried to pull the boy back to look at him, but Nadeer’s arms had
cinched around Cadric’s neck as tightly as his small muscles would allow.
“Cadric . . .” Nadeer’s voice was coated in—pain? “Cadric, it hurts, it hurts! Make it stop!”
The Cleric, in an attempt to comfort him, put a hand on the side of the boy’s neck, but Nadeer
shrieked in agony. Cadric’s heart pounded. “What hurts? Tell me, little one!”
“They’re burned. Two of them. Make it stop, Cadric!”
He hoped Nadeer was wrong. Burns were the trickiest and most painful to treat, and he didn’t want to
think what might happen if Nadeer could feel it all.
Nadeer’s breathing quickened. “Nadeer? Come on, little one, speak to me!” Cadric urged, but the boy
didn’t answer. Nadeer hovered in a haze of pain, somewhere between conscious and not.
Cadric made a beeline down the stone corridors to Chief Cleric’s study and caught Gartris just as he was
following a page toward the surgery. Gartris frowned at his Assistant Cleric’s recklessness, but Cadric’
s desperation made him pause.
“I will be there shortly,” Gartris told the page. The boy scampered away. Gartris crossed his arms and
glared over the rims of his spectacles. “We have an emergency down in the surgery. You’d better have
a damn good reason for making our patients wait, Cadric.”
“Are they burned? I already know. I mean, Nadeer already knew. I mean--” Cadric swore. Gods,
why did his brain have to fail him now, when he needed to give Gartris a coherent explanation?
Gartris raised a bushy eyebrow. “There was an accident at the glassmaker’s, so yes, we have two burn
patients that need us.”
Cadric turned to the side so his mentor could get a better look at Nadeer. “Look at him, Gartris! I
think—I think he’s picking up everything they’re feeling!”
Gartris’ brow furrowed. He laid a hand on the side of the boy’s sweat-dampened face. “Nadeer,” he
asked gently, “remember when you wanted to touch the candle and hurt your hand? Is that what it feels
like now?”
The boy mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative, but kept his eyes screwed shut.
“Give him to me, Cadric.” Gartris reached under Nadeer’s arms and began to pry him from the Cleric’
s neck. “Go and help Balan.”
Cadric let the boy go and flinched when Nadeer whimpered despite Gartris’ delicate touch. “He needs
me. I can’t—“
“Enough.” Gartris’ stern expression had returned. “Our two new patients need you. So does Balan.
I’ll take care of him.”
“But—“
“Think, Cadric. Ease your patient’s pain, and you ease his. Now go.” Gartris waved a hand to shoo
Cadric away and disappeared into his suite.
Cadric hesitated a moment longer. Nadeer’s muffled cry of anguish put life into Cadric’s feet and
propelled him down the hallway toward the surgery. Help the patients, and he would help Nadeer. . . .
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Four Winds Monastery
Padrekki Territory
Cadric sank down into the leather chair in his private room and dropped his head into his hands, his
faulty Cleric’s hands.
“Cadric?”
His palms slid away from his eyes, wet. “Nadeer? Now isn’t a good time, little one.”
The four-year-old hugged the doorway and peered at his foster-father, honey-gold eyes narrowed in
childish consternation. “Why are you sad? They don’t hurt any more.”
“What do you mean?” The Cleric crooked two of his fingers and beckoned to the boy. Nadeer ran to
his side and knelt so he was able to prop his chin on Cadric’s knee. Cadric ran his hands through the
boy’s thick black hair, which had grown nearly to his shoulders. “Who doesn’t hurt any more?”
“The lady and her baby.” Nadeer plucked at a loose thread at the hem of Cadric’s robes.
Cadric’s skin prickled. He and Master Gartris had told Balan to keep the younger boys busy outside of
Four Winds collecting herbs or looking after the horses and sheep. Cadric had assumed Nadeer had
gone along with the older boys. “How did you know about the lady and her baby? You’re not allowed
near the surgery. You know that.”
“I wasn’t there. I was helping Balan feed the lambs.” Nadeer pressed and lifted his finger into the
velvet of Cadric’s robe, entranced as the flattened fabric rose of its own accord. “I could feel the lady
hurt. Right here.” He pointed at his stomach. “It hurt for a long time, but not any more. Where are
they, Cadric? I want to see the baby.” The amber eyes looked up at him, hopeful.
“The—the baby isn’t here, little one.” Cadric’s voice trembled, but Nadeer had returned his attention
to inspecting Cadric’s robes and didn’t seem to notice. Gods. No one should be able to feel someone
else’s pain. “Has this happened before? Can you feel when someone else is hurt when you can’t see
them?”
“Like when Jerek broke his arm? Or when Hern fell off his horse?” He stood and pointed at Cadric’s
face. “I knew you were sad, because my eyes feel tired and puffy, like yours are.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you could feel other people like this?” The Cleric’s voice came out sharper
than he’d meant.
Nadeer pinched his lips together and looked puzzled. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
Of course not. How could he know? The acolytes avoided him, because his dark hair and olive skin
marked him as an Outlander, and the Clerics were often too busy to notice one more small boy acting a
little strange. Nadeer took what he could sense as normal, as if everyone he knew could do it. But they
couldn’t. No one born in tyr Padrek could.
Cadric stood and held out his arms. Nadeer wriggled into them and the Cleric swept him into the air and
balanced the boy on his hip. “I have to go talk to Master Gartris. Would you like to come with me?”
Nadeer nodded and wrapped his arms around Cadric’s neck. “Was the baby a boy or a g—“ the boy’s
voice broke off with a gasp.
“Nadeer? What’s the matter?” He tried to pull the boy back to look at him, but Nadeer’s arms had
cinched around Cadric’s neck as tightly as his small muscles would allow.
“Cadric . . .” Nadeer’s voice was coated in—pain? “Cadric, it hurts, it hurts! Make it stop!”
The Cleric, in an attempt to comfort him, put a hand on the side of the boy’s neck, but Nadeer
shrieked in agony. Cadric’s heart pounded. “What hurts? Tell me, little one!”
“They’re burned. Two of them. Make it stop, Cadric!”
He hoped Nadeer was wrong. Burns were the trickiest and most painful to treat, and he didn’t want to
think what might happen if Nadeer could feel it all.
Nadeer’s breathing quickened. “Nadeer? Come on, little one, speak to me!” Cadric urged, but the boy
didn’t answer. Nadeer hovered in a haze of pain, somewhere between conscious and not.
Cadric made a beeline down the stone corridors to Chief Cleric’s study and caught Gartris just as he was
following a page toward the surgery. Gartris frowned at his Assistant Cleric’s recklessness, but Cadric’
s desperation made him pause.
“I will be there shortly,” Gartris told the page. The boy scampered away. Gartris crossed his arms and
glared over the rims of his spectacles. “We have an emergency down in the surgery. You’d better have
a damn good reason for making our patients wait, Cadric.”
“Are they burned? I already know. I mean, Nadeer already knew. I mean--” Cadric swore. Gods,
why did his brain have to fail him now, when he needed to give Gartris a coherent explanation?
Gartris raised a bushy eyebrow. “There was an accident at the glassmaker’s, so yes, we have two burn
patients that need us.”
Cadric turned to the side so his mentor could get a better look at Nadeer. “Look at him, Gartris! I
think—I think he’s picking up everything they’re feeling!”
Gartris’ brow furrowed. He laid a hand on the side of the boy’s sweat-dampened face. “Nadeer,” he
asked gently, “remember when you wanted to touch the candle and hurt your hand? Is that what it feels
like now?”
The boy mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative, but kept his eyes screwed shut.
“Give him to me, Cadric.” Gartris reached under Nadeer’s arms and began to pry him from the Cleric’
s neck. “Go and help Balan.”
Cadric let the boy go and flinched when Nadeer whimpered despite Gartris’ delicate touch. “He needs
me. I can’t—“
“Enough.” Gartris’ stern expression had returned. “Our two new patients need you. So does Balan.
I’ll take care of him.”
“But—“
“Think, Cadric. Ease your patient’s pain, and you ease his. Now go.” Gartris waved a hand to shoo
Cadric away and disappeared into his suite.
Cadric hesitated a moment longer. Nadeer’s muffled cry of anguish put life into Cadric’s feet and
propelled him down the hallway toward the surgery. Help the patients, and he would help Nadeer. . . .
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