The Healer's Legacy (11 page)

At first she’d been offended. Then she’d smiled, intending to tease him, but he’d been so serious. It was the first time she’d realized how much he’d grown since his father had died. That was the moment she knew she would need to do something soon to insure his inheritance. But it wasn’t the day she’d begun to plan. No, after Kamar, she’d always intended to find a way into Milos’ wedding bed. But winning him had proved more difficult than she’d anticipated.

Before Kamar’s death, Milos had rushed here and there, laughing, drinking, hunting, wooing. Just as with his other interests, he roamed from one woman to the next. He seemed to be searching for something or someone. But each time Kamar confided to Mayet that he thought his brother might finally have found a potential bride, Milos would be off again, gadding about, drinking or hunting.

He’d even convinced Kamar to go with him on some of his hunting escapades, deep into the forest. Then one day, they’d brought Kamar back to the hold, mangled by a vicious boar. The local healer worked night and day with his poultices and remedies, but Kamar had died.

Mayet hadn’t noticed it at first, lost in her own grief, but it had become clear that Milos had changed. When he’d assumed his place as holder, he had grown serious. He stopped hunting and took little notice of any woman. And now he rarely smiled.

The sitting room door creaked open. Mayet watched out of the corner of her eye as Milvari crept across the room. “What are you doing?” she snapped, rousing Tratine. “Now you’ve awakened your poor brother. How often must I tell you not to go sneaking around like that?”

Tratine glared at his sister. Milvari stood still, head down, hair hanging over her eyes.

“Come over here. Stand up straight! Why can’t you keep your hair tied back like a proper lady?” Milvari inched her way across the room and stood beside her mother’s chair.

Mayet pulled roughly at the girl’s skirt, trying to straighten out the wrinkles. It was useless, the edge of the garment was frayed and dirty and smelled of horses. She grabbed Milvari by the arm. “You’re a mess. Who will ever want to marry you, if you go about behaving like some dull-witted peasant? Do you want your uncle to throw us out because you cannot act a proper lady?” Milvari whimpered and continued staring her feet. “Oh, go to bed,” Mayet growled in frustration. She pushed Milvari toward her bedchamber.

Milvari stumbled, then dashed from the room. Mayet sighed and turned back toward the fire. The child was an embarrassment. Ever since Kamar’s death, she’d been impossible. “I wish your father could see how you’ve grown,” she said, gently patting Tratine’s shoulder. He leaned back, resting against her.

Mayet stared into the fire, thinking of the ways she might bring Milos to her bed and guarantee Tratine’s inheritance.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kira gnawed the inside of her cheek in frustration. She’d made a bargain, which she intended to fulfill, needed to fulfill, to earn enough to pay for ship’s passage when the storm season broke. But how was she to teach these two resisting, unruly children? After a full week, neither of her students had yet responded to her. Milvari hung her head, hiding behind her hair as usual, while Tratine stared out the window, a scowl on his face. Kira sat across the table from them, worry knotting her insides. She’d been surprised to discover that the awkward young girl from the kitchen was Holder Tem’s niece and dismayed to find his nephew to be so spoiled and arrogant.

At first she’d felt sorry for the two. She’d learned from Harl that their father had been injured in a hunting accident three years before and had died from his wounds. Now she was angry and frustrated at her inability to reach the youngsters. While Milvari seemed at least to listen to her, Kira hadn’t been able to get the girl to speak a word or look directly at her. There was no way of knowing what the girl understood of the lessons.

Only the Holder’s direct order had compelled Tratine to join Kira and Milvari in the main hall each day after the midday meal. Even so, the holder’s nephew refused to respond to any of her directions. He was big for his thirteen years, large-boned and awkward. No longer a child and not yet a man, he clearly took the cue for his arrogant behavior from his mother.

Mayet was a lithe woman with angry eyes and a cold pride that she wore like a shawl. She made no attempt to hide her resentment of Kira, refusing to acknowledge her when Kira bid her good day. After the first few attempts to discuss her two students with their mother, Kira had given up.

She picked up one of the books the holder had provided for the lessons and leafed through it. Tratine continued to stare out the window, but Milvari peeked out from under her hair, sneaking quick glances when she thought Kira couldn’t see her. Kira walked past her to gaze out the window over Tratine’s shoulder. From this vantage point, she could see out through the open gate into the fields beyond. The last of the harvest had been piled in ricks and the short-cropped stalks that remained reflected the golden sun. It reminded her of home.

It was a pity these children had lost their father at such a young age. Kira knew the pain of that loss. She understood the reticence they might feel in permitting themselves to become attached to another person, but that was no reason for them to be allowed to be rude or to shirk their lessons. Yet, she thought, how long had it taken for her? How long had Heresta given of herself without return before Kira had responded to her? She let out a heavy breath and frowned as Tratine’s shoulders stiffened.

“Don’t worry, Tratine. I’m not going to berate you. In fact, it’s such a beautiful afternoon I think we should continue our studies outside.”

Milvari cast a glance at her, and Kira almost thought she saw the girl smile. Perhaps a nature lesson would help Milvari to open up. She certainly seemed to spend as much time as possible outside away from other people, at least when she wasn’t skulking in the shadows.

“Come along,” Kira said, grabbing a small book from a nearby shelf.

Tratine sat frozen in his seat and Milvari twitched nervously. “And leave your paper and quills, you won’t need them,” Kira added, heading out the door.

In the yard, a group of women winnowed the new grain. Holding the corners of heavy cloths, they tossed the grain into the air where the breeze could blow away the chaff as the heavy kernels fell back onto the fabric. Their good humor filled the yard as they worked, chatting and laughing at a bit of cleverness or some small joke. Beside them, children sat in a circle, singing a riddle song, the timbre of their voices rising and falling as they sang out the questions and answers.

Kira stopped at the main gate, letting the sun’s rays warm her as she waited for the two youngsters to catch up. She could almost hear Tratine’s grumbling, and pictured Milvari’s nervous movements as the young girl put away her papers and ink. As soon as she heard their footsteps approach, she started off, her two students following slowly behind.

She led them out across the open field toward the wide river that passed along the edge of the hold-lands to the north. In the distance, men and boys loaded the sheaves of grain onto wagons to bring into the hold for winnowing. The folk of the hold worked together in a balance of rhythm and harmony that made Kira long to be a part of their quiet world.

She dragged her thoughts back as she reached the riverbank, settled herself onto a large rock, and stared out across the water. The river ran slow and shallow. Sunlight glinted off the cool, green surface. Were she to stay here, her presence would destroy the calm of Tem Hold the way a rock would shatter the smooth surface of the river.

Tratine clomped up beside her. “What are we doing out here?” he asked in a petulant voice, as Milvari crept up to join them.

“We are observing,” Kira said, concealing the emotion her thoughts had stirred within her.

“There is nothing to see out here,” he said, kicking at a clump of dry grass.

Kira looked over at him, shading her eyes with her hand. “Do you really believe that?”

His eyes narrowed and he kicked at the turf again, shoving it loose with the toe of his boot. “What do you see then?” he asked finally.

“There’s a brush hen with her brood in the tall weeds on the far side of the river.”

“Where?” He squinted. “I don’t see anything,” he said and kicked the clump of grass up into the air. It arched out over the water, landing with a splash. A rustle erupted in the brush on the far bank.

“Oh!” Milvari pointed toward the sound. A large brush hen ran across the meadow followed by six speckled chicks.

“How did you know that?” Tratine asked.

“I saw them, Tratine. Just as I told you.” Kira opened the little book she’d brought from the hall. She held it out for Tratine to see. There was a small neat drawing of a brush hen on one of the pages, along with a description of the bird and its habits.

“Late summer and early autumn are good seasons for bird sightings. What other wild fowl might we expect to see out here by the river?”

“Why should I bother to know that?” Tratine snapped. “I have no use for such knowledge. Brush hens serve no purpose except to be plucked and roasted. Only a hunter needs to know how to find them and catch them, not a Holder.” He stuck out his chin and scowled at his sister. Milvari was crouched near the water, peering at the ground. Before Kira could call a warning, the girl stroked the leaves of a light-green plant with her finger. She quickly drew back her hand with a sharp intake of breath.

“Take care, Milvari.” Kira stooped beside the girl. “Let me see.” She took Milvari’s pale hand, turning it over in her own. A tiny bead of blood had formed on the tip of her finger. Kira indicated the plant with its soft-looking leaves. “That is a pino plant. A trickster dressed in velvety green. It appears soft, but the hairs on its leaves hide sharp thorns.” She took Milvari’s hand and guided her downriver, scanning the ground before them.

When she found what she was hunting for, she stopped. “What do you think this one is?” she asked, pointing to a mass of thin branches tangled together in a twist of knots.

Milvari bowed her head, letting her hair drift down over her face.

Kira knelt, pulling Milvari down with her. “It doesn’t look like much, does it?” she said, coaxing some of the branches apart and breaking them off. White liquid oozed from the broken ends. Kira dabbed some of the liquid on Milvari’s bleeding finger. It dried almost at once.

“It’s called harz,” Kira told her. “It helps to stop bleeding and dulls pain. A very handy little plant.”

Milvari stared at her finger for a moment, her eyes wide. For the first time since Kira had met the Holder’s niece, Milvari looked directly at her. There was a glimmer of excitement in the girl’s face.

Is this what Heresta finally saw in me? Kira wondered. Milvari’s look of profound curiosity and exhilaration at knowing something new reminded Kira of her days with the old healer.

They spent the rest of the afternoon hunting new plants. Milvari would point and Kira would explain the properties of the leaves, stems, roots or flowers. Tratine watched from a distance, glowering. It seemed to somehow anger him that his sister had found something to be interested in and someone willing to teach her about it.

At the usual time for ending their lessons, Tratine left Kira and Milvari by the river. He stalked off across the field, fists clenched at his sides. Kira glanced at his receding figure as she continued to instruct Milvari. At least the girl showed some spark. Perhaps the boy would come to take part, as well. Kira simply needed to discover what interested him.

The afternoon sun was well on its path toward the horizon when Milvari finally seemed to notice that her brother was gone. She stood for a moment in silence, watching Kira pluck small bundles of helmet flowers.

“What do those purple flowers do?” Milvari’s voice was barely audible.

Kira kept her head down, trying not to show surprise that the girl had spoken. She continued to break off the stalks of flowers, leaving the base of the plant to spread and grow again. “This is helmet flower. It will help a nervous person relax and sleep. It must be properly dried and stored. Then it can be made into tea.” She braided the plant stalks together. “Here.” She held out the bundle of green and purple. Milvari dropped her gaze. “Go ahead, take it,” Kira said, smiling. “Hang it with the flower ends pointing down so the oils will seep into the leaves.”

Milvari reached out and gingerly took the flowers. She lifted them up to her face and sniffed, then wrinkled her brow. “It doesn’t smell,” she murmured.

“Ah, you have discovered a truth. Just as not all plants that appear inviting are friendly, not all flowers smell the way they look,” Kira told her.

Milvari cocked her head to one side, and then nodded, a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Like you?” she asked.

“Like me?”

The smile slipped from Milvari’s face. She shrugged, and cast her eyes down at her feet again. Her dark hair fell over her face like a thick curtain.

Kira watched the girl retreating back into herself, remembering her first few months with Heresta. It made her heart ache. “If you mean that I am different than I appear,” Kira said thoughtfully, “I would say that you are correct.”

Milvari raised her head and smiled. Then she turned and ran back toward the hold.

Kira watched her go. What had just happened? Had she gained the girl’s trust or merely amused her? Getting Milvari to speak to her was a breakthrough, but Kira knew she would still need to go gently with the girl.

If only she could find a way to make a similar connection with Tratine. It would certainly make their time together easier. Soon the winter storms would come inland and she and her students would be spending a lot more time together. The Holder had already discussed a new teaching schedule with her, one that would occupy much of his niece’s and nephew’s time during the long winter months.

She would think on it later. Now, she was late for her visit with Vaith and Kelmir. She set off across the field, skirting the hold and heading into the forest beyond. She could have brought Vaith into the hold, but her two companions had seldom been parted in the past few years. Since in his ignorance Holder Tem refused to allow Kelmir into the hold unrestrained, the two animals stayed in the woods together. She smiled suddenly. Perhaps Vaith could help with Tratine. Boys were always fascinated by snakes and other wild animals. As for a wyvern, what boy could resist? It would be worth the attempt at least. But for the time being, she set aside all thoughts of Tratine and let Kel and Vaith know she was on her way.