Chapter 10
Simple, Like Healing
The North Territory of King’s Barrow was a curious place. It was strangely cold all year round, and by every account Hamal had ever heard, it attracted men and women who were also strangely cold. After spending a night in Redsprin—and then getting attacked by thieves, Hamal understood that description better than before. He expected Gallank Tree to be much the same, unfortunately: muddy streets, dirty buildings, frustrated townsfolk, and a strong sense of heaviness in the air that made the town an impossibility for feelers.
But riding through the gate of Gallank Tree was a completely different experience than riding through the gate of Redsprin. The guards at this gate greeted them as they entered and politely asked their business. They clearly did not feel threatened. The streets were paved with clean cobblestones. Hearty, cold-loving flowers grew in window boxes and in large planters positioned along the walkways. Cale’s party passed townsfolk who were actually smiling.
Hamal looked around in surprise. Oh, he thought. Feelers live here.
The town inn—a small, two-story building made of gray stone—stood in the center of town near one of the wells. As they rode into the quaint, little courtyard filled with pots of flowers and a sitting area made of benches surrounding a firepit, they spied a man sitting on the ground with a small girl next to him. An army of kittens crawled all over them. One kitten, a little gray fellow, was currently perched on top of the man’s head.
Hamal grinned. “Grandfather!” he called.
Exclamations rolled through the group.
“—don’t believe it.”
“He’s here?”
“He arrived before us, but how—?”
Why were they surprised? Hamal had written a note! His grandfather had known exactly where to meet them, and here he was.
Shel returned his smile and began scooping the kittens off his lap and handing them to the little girl, who cooed at them and scratched their bellies with chubby fingers. The last kitten to leave was the one sitting like a king on Shel’s head, and it squeaked tremendously at being removed from its throne.
Cale helped Rosy down, and then Hamal wiggled out of the saddle and ran over to greet his grandfather. Shel wrapped thick arms around him and lifted his feet off the ground, and Hamal started laughing and couldn’t stop. He was gasping for breath by the time Shel allowed his boots to return to the earth.
Hamal thought his grandfather’s face was wonderful. It made him think about the interesting places they had visited and all the adventures they had gone on together. Shel Galen knew how the earth was—what it liked, what it disliked, what worked well, and what did not—and everything he did succeeded, because he knew how everything was supposed to go. Whenever he saw his grandfather, Hamal felt happy because he knew good things were coming.
“Everyone,” Hamal said, when he could speak again, “this is my grandfather.”
“I will never get used to this,” Lord Rhyan muttered.
“Nor will I,” Gregory said. “And this is the second time it’s happened to me.”
Hamal stepped over to the small, bear-eared child hiding behind Cale. “And this,” he said in the gentlest voice he possessed, “is Rosy, the child I told you about.”
“Let us go inside first,” Cale said.
A short time later, several members of their party had gathered in a bedroom on the second floor. Hamal and Rosy were there, of course, along with Cale, Masly, Lord Rhyan, Hamal, Rosy, Shel, and finally Gregory, who had immediately taken the padded chair in the corner and was already scribbling pages of notes in his book. When his pencil snapped, he grabbed another and continued.
Shel had secured one of the kittens—the gray one who liked his head—and offered the kitten to Rosy. She stared at him without moving, and so Hamal took the kitten first and then offered it again, and she immediately accepted it this time. She sat down on the floor with the fuzzy creature in her lap.
“We found the oracle in a town called Redsprin,” Cale said and briefly described the circumstances: the illness threatening her life, the neglectful innkeeper, the way Hamal had made certain to give the innkeeper more money than he asked for to pay for Rosy’s expenses.
Shel instantly began nodding. “Good, good. What else?”
“That night, Hamal had a dream.”
Shel’s head twisted around as he looked at Hamal carefully. “A dream, eh? I won’t say those are common with oracles, but they are known to happen. Tell me what you saw.”
Hamal told Shel about his dream—the desert, the smells, the evil god counting coins that were somehow not coins. As he relayed these things, he kept a careful eye on Rosy, trying to see if the dream bothered her. He did not doubt she knew well the landscape he described, including the awful creature sitting at the desk.
Shel grunted at Hamal’s description of the bad god.
As if pulled by the sound, Masly leaned forward. “Do you know which god it is?”
“Aye,” Shel replied. One word, firmly spoken. “But I will not speak his name here. Certain words, certain names, should not be spoken in good company. Not out of fear, like some believe, but because this god is not important. Other things are more important. I will say, however, that this particular god delights in madness, and he keeps tokens of those he has affected.”
“Tokens?” Hamal asked and grimaced. “That’s what those coins were?”
“Aye.” Shel looked up at Cale. “Tell me, Seer. Can you think of a jeweler in King’s Barrow who suffers from madness and is somehow associated with the royal family?”
Silence fell like rocks.
Hamal gasped as he realized what his grandfather meant. A jewel with a crown. A jeweler who had a crown—or would have a crown, if he were in his right mind. The coin’s riddle seemed so very obvious now.
“Prince Alant.” Hamal spoke into the stunned quiet the name everyone was thinking. “The king’s older brother.”
Shel nodded slowly. “Aye. The one who lost his right to the throne because of madness that no one could cure. The one who attempted to take the throne anyway but failed.” He met Hamal’s gaze. “Because of you.”
“Not because of me,” Hamal whispered and looked over at Masly, whose entire body had become like a block of ice. “Because of him.” Masly had committed treason by kidnapping the prince to stop him from killing people—specifically, the one brother he had left: the king.
Hamal groaned as he realized what all of this meant. From the confines of his suite of rooms in the palace, Alant had arranged the death of Teiren, his brother. With that brother he had been successful. That was Cale’s prince—his friend who had died. Teiren was the reason Cale’s bones ached with guilt. He was the reason Cale sometimes acted unwisely because he knew Hamal would be there to heal him. Never would Hamal have thought that finding a little girl in a dirty town in the North Territory would have an impact on Cale’s bones. He looked over at his friend. Cale stood there much as Masly did. Everything about him was perfectly still, his face blank.
Until, quite suddenly, it wasn’t. Cale’s brows twitched and he grimaced. In a tight voice, he asked, “What can be done about this? Hamal has been unable to heal Alant. He has tried.”
Hamal did not like finding the boundary of his healing gift, and Prince Alant had been an especially painful finding.
“Uncertain,” Shel replied. “And right now, that is unimportant.”
Masly’s head tipped back as if Shel had struck him.
Shel lifted his hand in a soothing gesture. “Please understand me, my lord. Prince Alant is not the reason we are here today. We are here because of a little girl who likes kittens and has found herself trapped in the custody of an evil god. Hamal, you wrote me because you want to know how to change gods. Correct?”
Hamal nodded quickly. “Aye.”
“Then let us discuss this more important topic—” Shel held up one finger. “Without neglecting the important associated topics. Now, how to change gods. King’s Barrow is not an overly religious nation. Not yet. You believe in the gods but are not devout. Is there anyone on your team who is devout? A person who is dedicated to a kindly god who would be helpful to King’s Barrow instead of harmful?”
Hamal started laughing, and everyone looked at him in surprise. His grandfather was wise. He made everything sound as easy as breathing and simple, like healing. First, he’d done this with the coin that represented the prince, and now he did it with his instructions for how to help Rosy. The answer was so obvious that Hamal wondered why he hadn’t thought of this himself. “Aye! We have such a man!”
Cale blinked. Surprise pushed at his stiff shoulders until they slowly lowered. “We do?”
“It’s Will! Will is the man. He’s a charter.” The charter gift wouldn’t work without prayer. That was how charters used their gift—they spoke to the Creator, and he let them hear what the earth was saying. For this reason, the charter gifting was more religious than most other gifts.
Hamal looked back to his grandfather and paused, seeing the sudden gleam in Shel’s eyes.
“Will the charter, eh?” the older man said. He reached up and rubbed his jaw. “Would this happen to be Will Chiodo?”
Hamal nodded eagerly. “Oh, you have heard of him? He works for Cale, and he came with us. He’s not here, though—staying at the inn, I mean. He likes sleeping outside. If I were a charter, I would like sleeping outside too. Also, he has a very large dog.”
Somewhere behind Hamal, Lord Rhyan murmured just loud enough to be heard, “A large, scary dog.”
Shel turned to Cale. “Could you send for Will Chiodo, Commander? He will be helpful in this matter.”
Cale’s silver eyes narrowed. He stared in the general area of Shel’s face, his gaze unfocused as he used his gift. The moments passed, and Hamal began to feel like he was missing something. He reached up and scratched his head, wondering as he looked from Cale to Shel and back again. Was something happening? Why did it seem like talking about Will…was not exactly like talking about Will?
“Yes,” Cale said finally, blinking as his gaze returned to normal. However, his eyes remained slightly narrowed. “I will send for him.”
Hainn was sent to fetch the charter.
They waited for Will to arrive.
– H –
Author’s note: The original draft of this book did not have Shel Galen. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? I CANNOT. He obviously needs to be a part of this story, and I like this version so much better. ❤️
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Comment below or find us on Facebook. Copyright notice: © 2026 by Lauren Stinton. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or sapient plants is purely coincidental.
