Glyphbinder by T. Eric Bakutis

from Tarna when you arrive.”
    “Count on it.”
    “And Kara? Your mother arrived while we were speaking with Trell. Landra is tending to her now.”
    Kara tensed. Ona had made it to Solyr safe, alive. Ona was here , and she could hug her mother again.
    “Due to her illness,” Halde said, “I’ve decided to board Ona in the visiting dignitary chambers, rather than the barracks with the other parents. She’s in the infirmary now. She asked after you.”
    “I’ll find her.” A thousand worries went through Kara’s head and left just as quickly. She had never been good at lying to her mother, and if Ona found out what she planned … that Kara planned to swap their bodies and confront this disease herself…
    Halde clenched two fingers on the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I’ve dozens of things to do, ceremonies to prepare, letters to write. It never ends.” He opened his eyes and lowered his hand. “Five guard your soul.”
    “Five guard your soul.” Kara bowed as Halde strode from the Memorial Garden, his crimson robes growing darker as he moved.
    Kara stared at the monolith for a time after Halde left, reading the names of those who had died for their province. Had she died in the shadow of the Thinking Trees, eaten by wolves, her name would be carved up there as well. A death immortalized in stone.
    The things Elder Halde had revealed tonight left her feeling sick and cold: his brother’s murder, their world turning toward the Underside, the war between Mynt and Tellvan. The thought that the Demonkin could rise again. That everything Torn, High Protector, had sacrificed for them — his life and soul — had been for nothing.
    That the Mavoureen would devour them all.
    Had these revelations not come from Halde’s own lips, Kara would have thought them madness. Halde had told her because he trusted her. He had told her because as the royal apprentice, she needed to know. New responsibilities indeed.
    Kara glanced at the high windows of the infirmary and imagined Trell, sleeping there. Had the Thinking Trees taken his memory, ripped it out of him like stuffing from a doll? Or had something more sinister taken place — a battlemage, wiping his mind — because he knew something that could help her or Solyr? A message from Lunyr? News about the war?
    There was no way she could know. Not yet. Whatever glyphs had taken him, Trell was a good man. Kara felt that in her bones and that was enough for now.
    Time to see her mother.

Chapter 8
     
    KARA ENTERED THE SMALL ROOM where Landra tended to Ona. It looked no different from the dozens of other healing rooms in the infirmary, with its plain wooden walls and aged cedar ceiling. Ona’s soft blue eyes met Kara’s and Kara felt like she was six years old again, cradled in her mother’s arms. She cherished that feeling.
    Ona had cut her once long hair boyishly short, leaving what remained black streaked with gray. Her elegant eyebrows formed a wide V, leading to a nose that was thinner than Kara’s and far more graceful. She still had Kara’s height, but her frame had grown thin in the five years she spent fighting her painful disease.
    Landra’s bloodmending must have helped her. Ona’s skin looked more tan than pale, and she wasn’t trembling at all. She wore a simple woolen dress with a pattern of blue lilies sewn down its front.
    “Hi, Mom.” Kara swallowed against the lump in her throat. “How do you feel about moving to Tarna?”
    “I heard.” Ona smiled. “Congratulations. Now tell me about this man you knocked out and dragged back to the academy.”
    “I’ll leave you both alone,” Senior Mender Landra said. “We have done what we can for today, but I must work with you again before you sleep. Is that acceptable?”
    “Of course, Landra. I can’t believe how much better I feel.”
    Landra closed the panel, leaving them alone, and Kara rushed to her mother and hugged her as gently as she could. Ona hugged back, and Kara sighed