The Dagger of Adendigaeth (A Pattern of Shadow & Light) by Melissa McPhail

don’t remember the river,” she admitted. “Am…am I—”
    “No lasting harm, I think,” the old woman assured her. “A broken rib, a fractured arm which we reset well for you. You took a bad hit to your head. As Azerjaiman blows west, that one worried us, but I see you’ve kept your wits about you. Daughters of the sand are strong.” 
    Alyneri realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in relief. “Thank you. I am…” she grunted, catching her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, I’m alive. That’s a start, isn’t it?”
    “A good start, to be sure.”
    “But…where am I?”
    “Safe, child. In my home. I am Yara.”
    “You’re Kandori,” Alyneri said with a smile—not a difficult assertion considering they were speaking the desert tongue. She was surprised though that the speaking of it brought her such joy.
    “As are you, it would seem,” Yara answered, and Alyneri could hear the smile in her voice. “The gods work in mysterious ways.”
    “But we’re not in Kandori—we couldn’t be?”
    “Nay, child, a good deal west. Near the border of Veneisea and the town of L’Aubernay. Two days north of the Free City of Rethynnea.”
    So close… Alyneri bit her lip again. So close to Ean still. It was such a relief. She reached her free hand to touch the bandages across her eyes. “Can these come off?”
    “A while yet,” Yara advised, tapping her hand gently to leave the bandage alone. “I stitched the one wound, but your eye was also in a bad way. There is bruising and swelling yet. It’s been but days since you came to us. A few more for the healing, I would think.”
    Alyneri nodded her understanding. She could tell Yara wasn’t saying everything there was to know about her condition, and in a way she was grateful. There wasn’t anything she could do about her injuries as it were, and knowing the true extent of them might only have scared her.
    Only time could help her now, she understood this, though the helplessness rankled. While she was used to the frustration of not being able to heal everyone who came to her for aid—used to it if not inured to it—it was frightening to feel so helpless against her own need. But the one pattern a Healer couldn’t see was her own. It was akin to not seeing the forest for the trees—how could one see the pattern of the entire forest when standing deep within it?
    “A moment, soraya ,” Yara said, releasing her hand. Alyneri heard her cross the room, and then a far door opened and closed. A moment later, the door sounded again and the woman returned. “There,” she said as she retook her chair, “I’ve called for Ama-Kai’alil. He’ll be here soon to see you—been quite concerned, we have. I feared Inithiya would come for you when your fever ran so high, but She moved on. Angharad looked favorably upon you, child.”
    At least this once, Alyneri thought with a heavy heart. “Is Ama-Kai’alil your husband, Yara?”
    “Lands, no!” Yara laughed. “Ah, but you’ll love to look upon him, you will, once those bandages come off. My but he’s handsome, soraya , and whip-smart to boot, tall as his shoulders are broad. He has even an old woman like me thinking things I haven’t dreamed of in decades. If only I had a few less years on these old bones…”
    Alyneri chuckled. “You make him sound Epiphany’s own brother.”
    Yara laughed at herself and added with pat of Alyneri’s hand, “He’s the son I might’ve had if Jai’Gar had seen fit to give me sons instead of daughters.” 
    Alyneri smiled too, imagining what Yara’s ideal man would look like. She envisioned someone like her father—tall and raven-haired, with almond skin and deep, dark eyes. “It’s a strange naming though.”
    “That it is,” Yara agreed. “There’s a story there, to be sure. He’ll tell you if you ask him right.”  She paused for a moment and then added quietly, “I imagine you both have some stories to