SpringFire (16 page)

Several loud trumpeting sounds came in through the windows, and, curious, I got out of bed and went across to the window opposite.

The sky was a rich blue in which the sun rode clear of all but the wispiest high clouds. A rock garden stretched out before me, with different-colored patches of gravel used to create visual texture, rather than lawn and hedging as I was accustomed to. Spiky plants that looked completely alien to me were positioned here and there, soaking up the heat and sun, and giving only patchy shade.

Beyond the rock garden was a strip of white roadway on which several groups of people traveled. They wore brightly colored clothing that stood out in sharp contrast to the pale colors of the land all around.

Beyond the road was a stretch of brilliant, white sand, and beyond that, the lake I’d seen from the sky. And sporting in the blue water—the source of the trumpeting noises—were several red dragons, some diving deep and bursting out again while others just floated on the surface.

I watched, entranced, for several minutes, until footsteps behind me distracted my attention. Four young people came into the room bearing trays of food. One was Jinna, another was the lad who’d opened the windows, and the other two lads were complete strangers. The three boys slowed down, eyeing me, until Jinna told them to get their sorry selves moving, the patients were hungry.

I walked over to my bed, but sat in the chair next to it instead of getting back in, wishing I could be out in the warm sunshine instead of stuck in here with nothing to do.

Breakfast consisted of cold grain softened with milk and leten, a bowl of berries and cut-up fruit I didn’t recognize, and chilled tea. Everything was strange and exotic, and it captured my interest for at least a little while. I made Jinna sit in the other chair by my bed and tell me the names of the different fruits and describe what they looked like in their natural state.

Once I finished eating, she sat gossiping about people I didn’t even know. When she mentioned the name of one particular boy several times, bragging about how good he was at climbing the tall trees with no branches to get the fruit at the top, how good he was at fishing, how he was the best singer in Delaron, I began to get suspicious.

Being coy, I asked, “Is this Nolon your brother?”

As expected, Jinna spluttered her denial, and even though her skin was dark, she still blushed quite satisfactorily. I couldn’t help laughing, too, and soon we were giggling about the different boys in our lives.

“Your brother isn’t bad,” she said.

“Oh, please. You sound just like Loreen, one of my friends back home. She moons over him constantly, and her eyes go all gooey at the mere mention of his name.”

“But you have to admit he’s handsome.”

“I don’t have to admit any such thing.” The truth was that people always said we looked very much alike, except that he had hazel eyes while mine were dark brown. And while I didn’t think of myself as especially pretty, I definitely didn’t like to think of myself as
handsome
.

But that made me think of what my face must look like now. The smile fell from my lips and I raised my hand to my cheek. Jinna immediately picked up on my sudden change of mood and stopped laughing.

“What does it really look like?” I asked, not meeting her eyes.

She reached up and moved my hand away, then stroked that side of my face lightly. The touch of her hand sent shivers through me, and I closed my eyes. She stopped and simply held the palm of her hand against my cheek. I tried not to cry.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear,” she said. “It won’t ever go away.”

Next thing I knew, she kissed both cheeks and then my forehead. “It doesn’t make you any less a beautiful person.”

The touch of her hands and of her lips went straight to my heart. Like a healing balm, they soothed the edges of my pain. I felt my spirit grow calm. When I opened my eyes, something inside me unclenched, and I burst into laughter.

I hereby proclaim that the administration of Lake Delaron and its environs, as delineated on the map, reverse, be given over to the sage community, rent free, in perpetuity until such time as they choose to vacate it, at which point it shall revert to the Crown.

This is done with reference to the application made by Master Sage Larissa, and as a reward for longtime service to the Crown performed by the aforesaid community.

Thus have I decreed, thus shall it be, so say I.

~Morinda Queen Royal

Jinna joined my laughter. The other patients looked over at us, and the older one rolled his eyes and shook his head, which served only to make me laugh harder.

Once I got myself back under control and was wiping away the laugh-tears, Jinna took my breakfast things.

“Try to rest some more,” she said, “and with luck, Halla will let you go for a walk later.”

I just nodded. I didn’t feel like resting any more. Perhaps the promise of a change of scenery might make the boredom easier to bear.

But it didn’t. Just about the time I got up the courage to go ask the man playing cards to teach me his game, I sensed a disturbance out in the passageway.

A rush of power blew in through the open doorway like a gust of wind. It tickled my nose and made me feel like I was going to sneeze.

“ … for a few more days.” Halla’s voice trickled in behind the wave of power.

“I appreciate your concern,” replied a deep, musical voice. “But unless you have something concrete, I really must insist.”

And with that, Botellin, the man who’d rescued me from Rennirt, strode into the room. He wore black trousers and boots and a shiny white sleeveless shirt that laced loosely up the front. His attire showed off his fit physique, and though he must be about the same age as my father, I couldn’t imagine Papa wearing clothes such as these. But what was most noticeable was the magic that swirled around him. Traz had mentioned he was the leader of the community here, and I could well believe it.

He walked over to my bedside and smiled down at me from his great height. It felt awkward just sitting there in bed, and I wondered if I should stand up or something. Halla stood on the other side of the bed and placed a hand on my shoulder.

Then Botellin spoke to me, and his voice commanded all my attention, heart, mind, and soul.

“Welcome to Delaron, my child, though the words be spoken late. How do you feel?”

His words cradled me within their strength. Botellin sat down, his dark eyes intent on mine. I felt as if I were the only person in the whole world other than him, as if I were someone important, someone meaningful.

“I’m … I’m fine,” I stammered. “Much better than yesterday.”

Botellin chuckled. “I daresay. I apologize for bungling your rescue.”

“Bungling it? I don’t … I mean, thank you.” There might be no threat from this man, but his power and intensity scrambled my thoughts, leaving me tongue-tied and scarcely able to put a coherent sentence together.

Halla’s hand squeezed my shoulder. “You’re frightening her, you lump of a man,” she said in a gentle voice.

“No,” I said quickly, not wanting him to get that idea.

Botellin closed his eyes. A moment later, the power swirling around us settled, calmed, then disappeared.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I have come here anxious to meet you, forgetting to put on the demeanor appropriate to the sickroom.” He looked up at Halla, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, you’re as impossible as ever, and well you know it,” she said, giving him a stern look that was belied by the smile in her eyes.

He grinned and leaned closer to me. “And still the woman complains.”

Baffled, I couldn’t think of anything to say.

Botellin turned his attention back to the healer. “You don’t need to watch over our guest like a mother hen. I’m not going to eat her, interrogate her, or hurt her in any way.” Halla didn’t budge. “I
promise
.”

Halla stood up slowly. “If he tires you, child, ring the bell. I will rescue you immediately.”

When she’d gone, Botellin took my hand in his. I still didn’t know what to say, so I remained quiet, though it felt both awkward and comforting to sit there with my hand being held by such a powerful man.

“Rescue,” he finally said. “I must apologize that mine was so late.”

“But you couldn’t have known until—”

He waved my words away. “I keep a watch on Rennirt. He wields his power indiscriminately and with abandon, and I have made it my duty to try to prevent his most egregious abuses. But some slip past.” He reached up and touched my left cheek. “I’m so, so sorry.”

A lump rose in my throat at Botellin’s tenderness, but I swallowed past it, determined not to cry.

“You are so brave, so strong,” he continued. “I would like to get to know you better before you must return.”

“Then you know? But, of course, you must.” He would know about all of Xyla’s visits here. Plus, Breyard had been here for a few months. By now, Botellin would’ve spoken to Traz and must know the bones of my story, too. “I really want to go to Xyla now. I need to be with her until she’s better.”

“Of course. As soon as Halla assures me you are strong enough, you shall go to her.”

“I feel strong enough now.”

He patted my hand. “I’m sure it will be soon, only a matter of a few days. But you see how the master healer rules her roost here, and not even I can gainsay her.” His eyes twinkled. “Regain your strength as quickly as you can. We will talk more soon.”

When he left the room, the air itself seemed to change, as if the power that surrounded him were a separate presence that went with him. The light no longer shone quite as brightly, and the edges of things didn’t have quite as sharp a focus. I wondered what it would be like to have so much power yet be able to act as if you were completely unaware of it.

After lunch, Breyard came by again. He wore green leggings and a bright blue tunic belted with a red sash. He laughed when I put up a hand as if to protect my eyes.

“I know, I know,” he said. “But you get used to the colors after awhile.”

“I doubt it. But what’s the fabric, anyway? I’ve never seen such strange stuff before.”

“They call it
thillin
. It has the interesting property of keeping you cool during the heat of the day and warm when it cools off at night.”

“But why does it have to be so bright?”

Breyard shrugged. “Why do we wear such dull clothes back home?”

“Maybe because the dyes are so expensive?”

“Piddling details. Anyway, Halla says you can go out for a bit, so I’ve come to take you for a walk. Delaron is a place such as you have never seen before!”

He bent down and pulled some things from under the bed. I wondered if there was a treasure chest down there or something. “Change into these. I’ll wait for you here.”

This time when I got out of bed, I looked and saw a shelf underneath on which were the robe and slippers from earlier and several more pieces of bed linen. I carried the clothes to the private cubicle that was generally used for other things. There was a knee-length purple skirt and a cream-colored tunic with a blue-green sash. I felt like a troubadour getting ready to go out on stage when I looked down at myself. Well, if everyone dressed like this, perhaps I wouldn’t stand out.

Breyard had sandals for me, and when I’d put them on, he led me outside.

The blast of heat hit me like a boulder. I couldn’t ever remember it being so hot, not even on the hottest Summer day. The sky was pure blue now with none of the high clouds I’d seen earlier.

“We’ll take it slow,” Breyard said. “I know you’re not used to this.”

“You mean you can get used to this?”

He chuckled. “Just like you get used to the cold in Winter. But you’ll have the last laugh when we get back to the mountains and everyone else is freezing. C’mon. Let me show you around a little.”

We walked—slowly—along a path of pink gravel that led from the front door of the single-story building that housed the infirmary and through the rock garden I’d seen earlier. The road turned out to be a long, thin strip of some hard, white material. Across it, shiny white sand went to the water’s edge. Small waves from the dragons’ play in the deeper water lapped against the shore. I stood on the road watching the red dragons. Would I ever get used to seeing so many of them?

And so much water! In the middle of the desert! One of my favorite childhood stories was about a family of mice who lived at a desert waterhole and had adventures involving other animals who stopped there for water—snakes, hawks, jackals, and even an especially funny wildcat. Most of the story, of course, involved the mice avoiding getting eaten. But I’d never imagined a lake such as this one.

“We’ll stop by the shore on the way back,” Breyard said. “I want you to see the market first.”

I went with him, the oppressive heat making me want more than ever to dip my toes into the cool-looking water.

Soon we came to a row of houses. Made of a yellowish clay, they were only one story tall and each one seemed to spread out forever. Wide windows were open to catch any breeze that might waft by, while shades made of reeds covered the windows where the sun shone. A man came out of one house to roll up the shades along the east side of the house now that the sun had passed its zenith.

“See the towers?” Breyard pointed to the nearest roof. I saw that each house had a square tower, about one-story high, with arches open on all sides so you could see right through. Several wood poles crisscrossed the arches. “Those cool off the house.”

“You’re joking,” I said, giving him a suspicious look. He loved pulling my leg.

“No, really.
Really
,” he insisted at my continuing doubt. “They capture the breeze and direct it inside. Those wood poles—you can hang wet clothes on them to help even more. Of course, it won’t get hot enough for that until Summer, they tell me.”

I still wasn’t convinced. Pulling practical jokes was one of Breyard’s favorite pastimes, and I hated falling for them.

We turned down another path between two of the houses. By this time, my face was coated with sweat. I wiped it with the ends of the sash. How could anyone stand living in heat like this? I was just about to ask Breyard to take me back when a jumble of color assaulted my eyes. A moment later, I caught the odor of spiced meat cooking.

Back home in Barrowfield, I’d gone to market every week with Mama. And while in Penwick trying to rescue Breyard, I’d been at the capital’s market. But even that one—crowded and colorful and bustling with activity—paled in comparison to this one.

Down the first aisle, bolt after bolt of thillin in every color and shade imaginable dazzled my eyes. People, all dressed in more bright clothes, haggled over prices at the tops of their voices, a disconcerting difference from the discreet way bargains were struck back home.

But I soon wearied. Breyard wanted to show me more, but I insisted. I felt shaky and weak, and all the noise rattled my nerves. We turned around and retraced our steps.

I felt only a little better when we’d left the crowded marketplace behind.

“Can we stop and rest a minute?” I asked.

Breyard looked at me anxiously. “You do look done in. Can you make it to the lake shore? It’s just a little farther. I bet getting your feet wet will help.”

That sounded appealing, so I nodded and kept moving.

When we got to the beach, I found the loose, white sand hard to walk in. It took much more effort to walk across than I would’ve expected, and the hot sand almost burned my feet when they sank into it as I walked.

At the water’s edge, we took off our sandals and waded in. I stopped when the water was up to my knees, holding up my skirt to keep it from getting wet.

“Don’t worry about your clothes,” Breyard said, continuing walking after I stopped. “They’ll dry in no time.”