Zypheria's Call (A Tanyth Fairport Adventure) (6 page)

She felt her heartbeat slow and heard her own breathing loud in her ears. The taste of new leaves, of fresh growth, washed across her tongue with each in-drawn breath. As the moment approached, stretching like a fiddle string with its own barely perceptible sound, she turned and faced the north. She waited for the flash of heat on her cheek and when it came, she spoke, her voice carrying readily on the sun-lit air. She didn’t raise her arms or her voice, but simply spoke, chin upraised, eyes on the cusp of the heavens where day and night blended.

“I call upon the Guardian of the North, Bones of the World, to protect this place and all who live here, to provide the foundation for a new season, new growth, new life.”

Pivoting around her staff, she faced the east and the golden light streaming between the trees to rake the yard before the inn with talons of glory.

“I call upon the Guardian of the East, Breath of the World, to protect this place and all who live here, to cool the land with your breezes and give your strength to the new growth, protecting it from harm and strengthening it by your presence.”

She pivoted again to face the south and the dark line of forest on the far side of the village.

“I call upon the Guardian of the South, Soul of the World, to protect this place and all who live here, to fill their hearts with passion, to burn away that which no longer serves, and to warm that which strives to grow with the fire of life.”

She pivoted again to face the west and the looming bulk of the inn. The sky behind it brightening with the rising dawn.

“I call upon the Guardian of the West, Blood of the World, to protect this place and all who live here, to wash away the hurts, to heal the ills, and to lend your strength to all that grows here.”

She closed the loop by pivoting once more to the north.

“In the name of the Lady, Mother to all, I beg these boons that all who live within this place may be healthy, happy, and prosperous in the coming season. So mote it be.”

With that, she raised her staff from the ground and stamped it back down. The thump of iron-shod wood against graveled soil seemed to reverberate in the still air for a moment before the sun cleared the tree line and flooded the yard with light and heat.

Tanyth’s legs felt a bit weak and she found herself leaning on her staff for support. Frank was at her side in an instant.

He murmured, “You all right?”

She looked up into his concerned face. “Well, ’course. Just need to catch my breath a bit. This early mornin’ stuff is tough on a body before breakfast.”

He smiled, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes.

The villagers around them started rustling about and Tanyth turned to find them lined up facing her and, solemnly, each stepped up and bowed before heading off to the inn for the celebration breakfast. Tanyth returned each bow with a nod of her head as a stand-in for the Lady while the ceremony played out. When the final pair, the two travelers, approached, Tanyth felt self-conscious at the looks of awe on their faces. They bowed and she cradled her staff in the crook of her arm so she could raise a hand in benediction. “Safe travels, friends,” she said.

The shorter one, a tinker with a wiry frame and hair that sprouted from the sides of his bald pate, blushed and stammered, “Th-th-thank you, Lady.”

His companion, slightly taller and with arms that bulged from many seasons of heaving bolts of cloth around, offered a smile that seemed almost shy and oddly out of place in such a well-dressed merchant. “My thanks, mum,” he said.

Together the two strolled off toward the inn, their heads together and one or the other casting occasional glances in her direction.

Amused, Tanyth turned to look up at Frank. “What d’you s’pose got into them?”

Frank’s mouth curled into a sideways smile and his eyes widened in feigned innocence. “I can’t imagine.”

She scowled at him. “Are you makin’ fun o’ me?”

He chuckled. “Not while you’re carrying that staff.”

She grinned and turned to cross the short distance to her hut.

Frank matched her stride for stride, arm out as if to catch her if she fell.

“You’re treatin’ me like an invalid, Frank.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “I broke my arm, not my leg.”

He simply grinned at her. “And if you trip and fall? How you gonna catch yourself with only one arm and your hands full?”

She snorted a laugh but had to admit he had a point. “I’m not likely to fall as long as I got my stick to lean on.”

“I’m just a foolish old man,” he said, eyes dancing in the morning light.

She stood her staff against her hut and smiled up at him. “True, but now that I’ve got no stick, maybe I can lean on you?”

“As long as there’s breath in me,” he said and held out his arm for her to grab.

The words hammered in Tanyth’s heart and she didn’t trust herself to speak, simply wrapped her good arm around his and let him drag her across the yard, up the broad stairs, and into the maelstrom of breakfast in the common room.

Inside Tanyth sat at the place of honor, in front of the hearth, with the open doors of the inn allowing the golden morning to shine on her. The heat and hubbub nearly overwhelmed her, but Frank kept her mug filled with hot tea and after sampling a variety of pies, pasties, and stewed grains, she felt her strength returning.

“That prayer musta taken a lot out of me,” she murmured to Frank, biting into a second helping of venison pie.

He leaned down to her. “You put a lot into it, Tanyth. Gotta expect it to take a toll.”

“Just words,” she muttered. “Don’t see why that would be so taxin’.”

He leaned back to look at her from a distance. “Is that what you think? Just words?”

She frowned. “Well, isn’t it? Not like I’m doing anythin’ out there but yammering.”

Frank laughed gently at her. “You’re funny.”

“I don’t see the humor,” she said. The feeling that he was laughing at her stung and made her feel prickly. “I’m just tryin’ to help out and you got no call to laugh at me, Frank Crane.”

Sadie leaned across the table. “Uh, oh, Frank. She’s usin’ your full name. You best apologize now and try to save yourself.”

Tanyth shot Sadie a frown that set her back in her chair.

“Sorry, mum.” The younger woman looked contrite and Tanyth immediately felt sorry for taking her pique out on an innocent bystander.

Tanyth reached her free hand across to pat Sadie’s hand. “Nothin’ to be sorry about, my dear. I’m just feeling a bit...tired. And this galoot is laughin’ at me.” She elbowed Frank none to gently in the ribs.

“Sorry, Tanyth. I’m not mockin’ you. I mean it,” he said.

She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “See that you don’t,” she said. “Is there any more tea?”

She didn’t really want more tea, but the conversation made her uncomfortable. She made a mental note to find out what he found so funny later, when they weren’t surrounded by people.

“Excuse me, mum?”

The voice came from behind her. Tanyth turned to find the two travelers standing there.

The tinker spoke again. “Me’n’ Herm here, well, we wanted ta thank ya.”

At the mention of his name the burly cloth merchant ducked his head in a quick semi-bow. His eyes looked anywhere except at her.

“That was a proper ceremony, right enough.” He glanced up at his larger companion and then back at Tanyth. “Thank you for lettin’ us be part of it.”

“You’re certainly welcome.” Tanyth looked from one to the other of them, a bit confused by their obvious discomfort.

The tinker elbowed his friend who twitched like he’d been stabbed. “Yar,” he said, “I hain’t seen da like since I wuz a tad back ta Dermton.” Each word seemed to fight its way from the larger man’s chest and out his mouth.

She smiled again. “Dermton? One of my teachers lived in Dermton.”

The man looked startled. “Ya know it, then? Dermton?”

“On the banks of the Ryme Flow? Just where the foothills start up to the Whitehorn Mountains?”

The man nodded, wonder in his eyes.

“Indeed I do. Spent a whole winter there with Mother Abigail Hilton. Must be...” she had to think for a moment as her memories swirled back through the miles and the winters. “Ten winters ago now. Maybe fifteen.”

Herm shifted his feet and glanced at his friend before speaking. “Mother Hilton, aye, mum. You know’d her?”

She smiled and nodded. “Lovely woman. Do you know? Is she still there?”

A cloud passed across his face and the tinker answered for him.

“No, mum.” He glanced up at the larger man before continuing. “She passed over some time ago. Seven, maybe eight winters since.”

Tanyth sighed. “I can’t say as I’m surprised. Mother Hilton was on in years when I stayed with her. A good woman, wise in the way of the woods and waters.”

The tinker nodded. “Yes’m. She were.”

“Mother Hilton was like a gran to us all, growin’ up, mum,” Herm said, the slow plod of his words rumbling through the breakfast hubbub that continued around the table. He paused and looked at his boots before casting a glance at Tanyth again. “She knew how to say a prayer, mum. You learned good.”

The two stood there, shuffling their feet but making no move to leave.

“Is there somethin’ else?” Tanyth asked.

Herm looked to his friend and shook his head, but the smaller man took a deep breath and looked to Tanyth. “We wuz hopin’—if it’s not too much to ask, mum...”

The room quieted down and Tanyth could feel more eyes turning in their direction as the tinker seemed to stumble over his tongue.

“That is, mum. Could we beg a boon? A small blessin’ for the road, mum?” He looked up at Herm who looked simultaneously abashed and hopeful.

The expression almost made her laugh but something about them made her hold her mirth in check. She glanced at Frank and was startled to see him watching her, not the travelers.

“I’m not much on blessin’ and all,” she said turning back to look at the two men, tugging self-consciously at the sling that held her cast. As she did, her eyes picked out a small, star-shaped spot on the hearthstone. A spot she knew was her own blood and the memory of it jolted her.

The two men bit back whatever it was they were about to say and merely nodded. “Well, thank ya, anyway, mum.”

Together they started to turn away, but Tanyth stood and faced them.

“Wait,” she said. “What are your names?”

They blinked in confusion for a moment but the big man recovered first.

“I’m Herm, mum. Herm Ridgewood.”

The name struck a chord in Tanyth’s memory. “Your people run the Ridgewood Mill? Just down stream on the Ryme Flow?”

He smiled. “Yes, mum. Best mill on the Ryme.”

Tanyth bit back a smile. If her memory was correct, it was the only mill on the Ryme.

The big man elbowed the tinker, jarring him out of his stupor.

“Oh, I’m Willum Grits, mum. You pro’ly never knew my people.”

She closed her eyes to picture the tiny village. Something tugged at her memory. She imagined what the town must have looked like to a raven flying overhead. As she turned away from the river, out into the thistle and scrublands she remembered the Grits.

“You had a small place west of the town? Was it your mother who raised flowers?”

His jaw dropped. “How can you remember that far back, mum?”

She laughed and shook her head. “It’s a gift, I s’pose. The All-Mother blessed me with a good memory. And while I remember the house, I can’t remember your mother’s name. I can see her face. I know I know it, but I just can’t remember.”

“Eloise, mum. Her name was Eloise.”

“Was?”

He shuffled his feet. “Aye, mum. She passed over a couple winters back.”

Tanyth sighed but, again, wasn’t surprised. Even when Tanyth had been there, the woman had been little more than a rag and bones. She tried to support the family on what she could get from raising the flowers and the odd vegetable crop scratched from stony ground that nobody else wanted.

The two men stood side-by-side, light from the rising sun on equinox morning casting their shadows dark across the hearthstone that had been colored with Tanyth’s own blood. They waited patiently while Tanyth considered.

“Farewell, then, Willum Grits and Herm Ridgewood. May the All-Mother’s blessing bring you peace on your travels and keep you safe until you find your homes once more.” She reached over and pulled the small tinker toward her, her free hand on his shoulder. She was surprised to find him barely taller than she was. She kissed him once on the forehead. “Farewell, Willum,” she said. She had to reach up to pull the burly cloth merchant down. She kissed his brow as well, murmuring, “Farewell, Herm.”

She stepped back and time itself seemed frozen for one crystalline instant before a raven’s loud caw broke the mood. The silence in the common room was so complete, they heard the heavy bird land on the ridge of the roof, heard the scratch-scratch of talons on wood shingles as she settled down.

Tanyth looked up and smiled. “Thomas? Have you put out a rabbit lately?”

He laughed. “No, mum. I’ll find one today for her.”

The joyful breakfast noise resumed then and Tanyth looked back to find the two travelers staring at her.

“Thank ya, mum,” Herm said.

“Yeah. Thank ya, mum,” Willum echoed.

“You’re welcome, I’m sure. Now, daylight’s burnin’. Don’t you men have someplace to be before night falls?”

The two looked almost startled by the realization. “Yes’m,” Willum said, pushing the larger man ahead of him toward the door. “We does, indeed, and thank ya. Most kindly.”

“Blessed be,” Tanyth said.

The two disappeared out the door and down the steps.

Tanyth’s legs felt a bit rubbery and she sat, perhaps more heavily than she intended. She reached for her mug and found that somebody had refilled it for her. She took a grateful slurp and felt better.

The group looked to be in the final throes of breakfast, and she saw Jakey gathering the quarrymen with his eyes. They’d head out soon and the celebration would be over.

She turned to find Frank’s deep, brown eyes smiling at her.

“Still think it’s just words?” he asked.