But Jensen is bound to Disease. Not Mending. And yet … as a boy, when his magic first started to blossom, he thought he might be matched to Mending. He could heal broken bones, could stitch torn skin, could control pain. Maybe …

“Papa!” Boe’s small hands are curled into fists. His back arched in agony.

Jensen doesn’t even think. He grabs a set of bones from his satchel and uses them to send relief into his son’s small body. Boe’s expression relaxes. His hands unclench, fingers falling open.

“That’s better, Papa.”

Jensen empties his Healing satchel, spreading his supplies on a cloth next to him. He reaches for another set of bones and begins to heal the break. His fingers stay in contact with the boy’s flesh as he closes his eyes. I can see inside his mind—how he directs his magic to put pressure on the damaged vessel, clamping down hard until the bleeding is controlled, before directing it to suture itself back together. Then he tackles the bone—repositioning the fragments into their original location—and then beginning the process of fusing them back together. He’s working so intently that he fails to hear the hoofbeats behind him.

“Do you need help?”

Jensen startles at the voice. He turns his head to find a couple—a man and a woman, each on horseback. Both wear identical expressions of concern.

“My boy is ill,” Jensen says. “I’m a Healer, but we could use some help getting to the nearest town.” His gaze sweeps across the landscape. “Our horse seems to have bolted.”

Jensen turns back toward Boe and continues working on the boy’s leg. He misses the suspicious look that passes between the couple. The way they study Jensen and Boe with furrowed brows. His supplies—vials of bone dust to calm fevers, creams to sooth chronic skin problems, tools to examine eyes and peer down throats—are clearly those of a Disease Healer, but Jensen appears to be mending. The boy’s leg is soaked in blood, and it was the sound of screaming that made the couple sit forward in their saddles and urge their horses into a run. This was clearly an accident—a bad one from the looks of it—that resulted in a broken bone. But now the boy is alert and calm. Breathing easily. In no pain.

Either this man is a Disease Healer practicing mending or a Mending Healer in possession of items that he shouldn’t have access to.

“We’ll ride ahead to the next town,” the man says. “Secure a wagon and a place for your boy to rest.”

Jensen wipes his forehead with his sleeve. He doesn’t turn around. “Thank you.”