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abandon. She plucked a handful, sat on a large fallen log and started to twine
a chain. And for a moment, she was a child again, carefree, with only her
chores and her cat to consider.
But she was no longer a carefree child. And her cat waited for her, at the
edge of the dusty road. She tucked the unfinished chain in her apron pocket
and pushed herself to her feet.
Nixa, whose interest in the occult was none at all and who had a natural
ability to fend for herself, had fared much better over the past two days. She
pranced happily alongside her mistress as they returned to the road. To the
cat, the days at the cave were a grand adventure in the forest and nothing
more.
Khamsin shoved the long sleeves of her blouse up over her elbows. She
regretted she hadn t thought to dampen a cloth at the spring. There was no
wind from the sea and the earth under her feet baked in the summer sun. If
only the cool winds common to late summer would appear again. She daily asked
Ixari for blessings in that regard. The humidity was unbearable; her thin
blouse clung to her damp form and her skirts caught heavily between her bare
legs. She thought again of the days when she ran about the forest in boy s
breeches and a light vest.
There were spells in her Book created to alter the weather, but they were to
be performed only by a temple priest or a priestess. She was a Healer, a
benefactress for her village. She aided or advised; she didn t alter. A
Healer, as Tavis had reminded her, could question the Gods but not countermand
them.
The symbols she sought within the circle were for these purposes only. Though
the knowledge she gained this time in Bronya s cave weighed as heavily on her
mind as the oppressive weather. It was a cloudy knowledge, unlike the clear
blue of the sky overhead. Everything pointed to the necessity of her
continuing her training but nothing explained why. As Tavis had said, why
weren t her herbals sufficient?
But they weren t, and she wondered why Tavis didn t accept her need to
continue learning. She - and Tanta Bron - thought that he would.
Again and again, the symbols for knowledge and experience appeared in her
divinations and less and less, the symbols of benedictions and healing. She
understood that some of this knowledge would come as a result of a journey,
though by land or by water was not made clear. For when she consulted the
circle for specifics, the answers were again vague.
It was as if there were a power struggle being waged amongst the deities
themselves and Khamsin s queries only served as a further irritation. She was
beginning to suspect that there was more than just the powers of the Sorcerer
to fear.
But a tired mind easily finds misinterpretations. So she headed for home
seeking, if not knowledge, then comfort and rest.
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The narrow road wound around a grove of old trees. Khamsin s tracks cut even
wider as she stepped aside to avoid a fresh deposit of dung. Nixa sniffed at
the manure warily, identifying it for herself and Khamsin ashorse . That meant
there was a traveler up ahead with a small cart, judging from the marks in
dust on the road as well. She yearned to ask for a ride.
She caught up with the horse cart sooner than expected. The rider, tall and
dark-haired, had dismounted and walked slowly. Khamsin recognized the mottled
gray mare and the red-stenciled cart as belonging to the Tinker. It was laden
with pots and pans and odd pieces of cloth and lace.
She hailed him by his name, which was his title and the same for all of those
who plied the trade.
"Ho, Tinker!"
The man stopped and turned, his lean face registering surprise.
"Lady Khamsin! And what brings you out for a walk on this beastly afternoon?"
He ran his hand wearily through his dark hair, pulling it away from where it
clung to the dampness of his face and the back of his neck. His jacket and
vest were absent and his linen shirt was partially unlaced.
"Just on my way home." She drew up next to him. The gray mare whinnied and
shook her head. Khamsin touched the animal s neck and her mind registered the
pain.
"You have trouble?" She noticed a slight swelling on the mare s front leg.
The Tinker nodded. The small gold star in his left ear glinted in the late
afternoon sun. "She picked up a stone. When she went to put her weight on it,
twisted something. I pulled up immediately but I m afraid the damage is done."
Khamsin cleared her mind of her troublesome thoughts and bent down to touch
the mare s leg.
"It s just a slight muscle pull. Nothing serious, fortunately." She reached
for the bag of oiled, crushed berries at her waist. She applied a small amount [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]