Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light (35 page)

“I understand,” Reiv replied, but he wasn’t
happy about it.

“Nannaven, when will we see Brina again,”
Dayn asked.

“Oh,” Jensa said, “she gave me a message for
you all. I saw her yesterday when she told me there was the
possibility of your banishment and that I was to be on the lookout
for you. Let’s see, she said to tell you she would try to rescue
the lion, retrieve Alicine’s flowers, and secure Dayn’s bottoms,
whatever that means.” She giggled at that, though she did not seem
like the sort of girl who giggled.

Dayn blushed and tugged at his tunic.

The next several hours were somewhat
uneventful. Alicine puttered with Nannaven in the herb garden,
while Dayn sat at the table, cutting vegetables and visiting with
Jensa, who seemed to have taken a great interest in him. Reiv, on
the other hand, slept curled up on a mat in the corner, as was his
usual custom when the problems of life invaded his mind. Sleep,
which had become his only respite during the past year, proved to
be no different today. But he arose in time for dinner, which Dayn
proudly proclaimed at having had a hand in.

Afterward, they all lounged by the fire while
Nannaven told them about herself and Pobu and the Shell Seekers.
And there was much to tell. They learned that Nannaven was a great
healer and humanitarian, much like the Spirit Keeper of Kirador.
She lived alone, except when she was sheltering those in need, such
as she was now. No one went homeless or hungry if Nannaven could
help it. Pobu was crowded and dirty and poor, for the Jecta were
forced to live off the leftovers of the Tearians and were placed
under a great many restrictions. They were not allowed to own land,
or gather for public meetings, or write, or sing, or carry weapons
or hunting tools, although some simple utensils were allowed for
cooking and gardening. There were horses, but not many, and even
those were the ones considered too old or too ill for use by the
Tearians. At one point Dayn asked what it was the smith actually
did without horseshoes and hunting tools to forge. To his obvious
disappointment he was told the smith fashioned mostly nails, eating
utensils, hinges for doors, and tools for gardening.

Jensa, they learned, lived in another
community, Meirla, with the others of her kind. Her village was
nestled along a palm-treed beach that overlooked the ocean to the
south of Pobu. The tales of the sea snakes and treacherous waters
proved to be exciting, and Dayn asked Jensa question after
question. She was only too happy to respond, delighted by his
interest.

Dayn and Alicine listened with rapt attention
as Nannaven and Jensa told them the way of things for the Jecta,
but Reiv at times found himself mentally closing off their voices.
A part of him hated hearing about the oppression his people imposed
on others, while the other part of him struggled to justify it. But
he never said a word in defense, nor interjected his opinions or
excuses. These women had, after all, fed him and housed him, and he
wasn’t totally without manners.

“Come, it’s getting late,” Nannaven said at
last. “You all need to get some rest. I’m sure you have much sleep
to catch up on.” She tottered over to a cupboard in the corner and
removed three rather worn blankets and handed them to Dayn,
Alicine, and Reiv. “You’ll sleep on the roof. There’s plenty of
room there and the night air will be pleasant. But even better than
that, you’ll sleep with a canopy of stars above you. A wondrous
show, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, Nannaven, for your hospitality.
And you too, Jensa,” Dayn said as he moved toward the ladder
leading to the trap door above.

Jensa looked at him with surprise. “It was my
pleasure, but you do not have much to thank me for, I think.”

“Yes we do,” Dayn insisted. “You saved
us.”

“Saved you?” Her expression took on a look of
curiosity as her gaze lingered on his face. Then she smiled. “Get
some rest. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and you’ll help me with
breakfast?”

Dayn grinned and nodded his head in the
affirmative.

* * * *

Nannaven and Jensa sat at the table, sipping
tea and visiting quietly. “I don’t think the prince will do well
here,” Jensa said.

“No,” Nannaven agreed. “But if he’s here,
then he’s meant to be.”

“But what purpose could there be in it? He’s
a Tearian of royal blood, son of a king who continues to oppress
us.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Few will welcome him,
Nannaven. I fear he’ll find little happiness here.”

“I doubt he had much happiness in Tearia
either. Maybe he’s due some.”

“Well, he’ll get little sympathy from me.
He’s had every opportunity for happiness. He was born a prince and
given everything he could possibly want.”

Nannaven reached out and patted Jensa’s hand.
“Tough words from a girl who wouldn’t kill a spider. Reiv didn’t
pick his lot in life any more than the rest of us. Just remember,
falls from high places hurt worse than falls from low ones.”

Jensa nodded. “I suppose. Well, he’s here
now, so there’s not much we can do about it. How long do you need
me to stay?”

“Just a few days, until we see what unfolds.
I’ll send word to Torin that you’re staying a while to help me with
things.”

“All right,” Jensa said. Then she smiled.
“Dayn is sweet, isn’t he? He and Reiv are so different—like fire
and light.”

Nannaven’s eyes shot to hers. “What did you
say?”

“I said Reiv and Dayn are like fire and
light; one red-haired and hot-tempered, the other with a goodness
in him that shines like starlight.”

Nannaven’s gaze moved past Jensa to the
fireplace beyond. “Fire and light,” she whispered.

Jensa glanced over her shoulder, then back to
the Spirit Keeper who stared out as though in a daze. “What is it,
Nannaven?”

The old woman’s attention returned to the
table. “Nothing, dear. I was just thinking.” She rose and headed
for the cabinet along the wall. “I have to go check on a patient.
Won’t be long.”

She gathered up a few potions and placed them
in her bag, then exited the hut muttering to herself.

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Chapter 21: Blurred Perceptions

N
annaven allowed her
guests to sleep later than she normally would have, even against
the protests of Jensa, who seemed sincerely disappointed that Dayn
was not up to help with breakfast. Eventually the three awoke,
their faces puffy from almost too much sleep. They tended to their
personal needs, ate their breakfast, and listened as plans were
made for the day.

Nannaven, they learned, would escort Dayn to
the smithy and deposit him into Gair’s care. She and Alicine would
then continue on to make the morning rounds. Meanwhile, Reiv was to
go with Jensa to make inquiries about employment. Dayn and Alicine
reacted with excitement at the thought of seeing Pobu in a new
light, while Reiv made numerous excuses in a transparent attempt to
postpone the inevitable. Before long Jensa was simply walking out
the door, demanding that he follow.

Dayn and Gair bonded immediately and, just as
Nannaven had said, the day was spent mostly making hinges and
assorted tools. Alicine and Nannaven wound their way through the
city, tending the frail and those in need of medical attention.
There was much illness and few with the skills to treat it. As
planned, Jensa took Reiv to meet numerous merchants, hoping someone
might have need of him. But he was rejected time after time,
sometimes due to prejudice, but more often for fear of reprisal.
Few dared risk the ire of those who would just as soon see the
former Prince dead.

After several frustrating hours Reiv insisted
they return home, complaining that he felt ill and needed to lie
down. It would have been the perfect ruse if it hadn’t been the
truth. They went back to Nannaven’s where he did sleep, and when he
awoke he trudged over to the table where Jensa was peeling
potatoes. He helped her as best he could, but found working the
small knife awkward and ended up cutting more potato than peel.
Afterwards, he dusted and swept the floor and cleaned some dishes.
But he found it humiliating. It was as if he were a housemaid.

On the evening of the third day, Reiv, still
unemployed and growing more frustrated by the minute, found himself
alone in the hut with Jensa once more. Dayn had stayed late at the
smithy to work with Gair on a surprisingly large job, while Alicine
and Nannaven had been kept longer than expected caring for a woman
in labor. Jensa sat by the window, working on a bit of mending
before the light grew too dim. Reiv paced the room, cursing his own
worthlessness. He could not help with the mending, nor could he
repair the mats or peel the potatoes waiting to be peeled. For that
matter, there was little of value he could do.

He plopped down on the stool by the
fireplace, facing the flames, and opened and closed his fists in an
attempt to work the discomfort from them. Since coming to this
place his hands had been sorely neglected. There was little
opportunity for privacy, and he was far too proud to ask for
medicine. No one spoke to him of it, they did not wish to risk his
temper, and so he had endured it in silence.

Jensa rose and set the mending aside, then
stretched her arms and arched her back. “I think I’ll step outside
for a bit and get a breath of fresh air. Would you like to
come?”

“No,” Reiv replied in a none-too-friendly
tone.

“Suit yourself,” she said, and walked out to
the yard.

Reiv glanced past the open doorway. The sun
was setting, and the once vibrant colors of the flowers were barely
clinging to their petals anymore. He muttered something about his
matching mood, then twisted his body from the outside world.

He worked his hands, first one and then the
other, balling his fists, clenching and unclenching his fingers.
But it did little good. They needed release from the sweaty
confines of the gloves, but somehow he could not bring himself to
do it.

A figure shadowed the doorway at his back. He
could feel someone’s presence, but did not turn to see who it was,
and continued his task, keeping his focus upon it. Soft footsteps
padded across the room toward him. From where Reiv sat, he could
not tell who it was, not even from the corner of his eye which he
had eased in that direction. The sound stopped directly behind him
and waited.

“What?” Reiv said impatiently.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,”
Alicine said.

Reiv rested his hands on his knees and looked
over his shoulder. He flicked a strand of hair out of his eye and
shot her a look of annoyance. “What is it, Alicine?”

“Your hands are hurting, aren’t they.”

Reiv opened his mouth to speak, but Alicine
interrupted him. “Don’t bother to deny it,” she said.

He rose from the stool and turned to face
her. “Well, it should come as no surprise,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is they always hurt.” Reiv
shrugged his shoulders, then turned and sat back down on the stool.
“Do not concern yourself. Really. They have been much worse.” He
glanced up and saw the pained expression on her face. He hadn’t
meant for her to feel sorry for him. He had only meant— “I am
sorry. I did not mean to sound unappreciative.” He kept his hands
on his knees and dared not move them, but he could feel them
twitching and hoped she did not notice.

“You haven’t taken off your gloves in how
many days now? They need to be cared for. Brina said—”

“Well Brina is not here, is she?” he said.
Then he realized his tone. “Do not worry about Brina. She would
understand.” Leaning over, he rested his forearms on his knees and
slowly opened and closed his fists. He could feel Alicine watching
them, but for some strange reason he was beyond caring.

Alicine sighed and turned aside, then walked
toward the window. She stared out for a moment, then glanced along
the wall toward a narrow table and the lamp that sat upon it. “It’s
getting dark in here. This lamp needs refilling.” She rummaged
through the items on the table and on the shelf above it, searching
boxes, baskets, and bottles.

Reiv looked up. “Try that amber bottle, the
tall one there behind the jug. I think I saw Jensa with it the
other night when she was looking to light the lamp.” He turned his
attention back to his hands.

“You and Jensa have been spending a lot of
time together,” Alicine said. She lifted the bottle and examined
it.

“Yes,” Reiv replied.

“Do you like her?”

Reiv wrinkled his brow, confused by the
question. “Yes, of course. Do you?”

“Of course.” Alicine tipped back the barely
burning wick of the lantern and trickled some oil into the reserve.
The flame grew bright. She smiled at Reiv, who did not smile back,
then pulled in a deep breath. “Reiv, I know we’ve only been here a
short time, but I’ve become familiar with the potions Nannaven has,
and have been working on a few of my own. I’ve mixed up a salve
that might ease the pain in your hands. I thought you might want to
try it.”

Reiv was certain his eyes would betray his
eagerness. He lowered them in an attempted show of apathy. “Well,”
he said, “I could try it, I suppose. If you really want me to.”

Alicine’s face lit up. “I’ll fetch it. Take
off your gloves.” She turned to retrieve the remedy tucked in the
cupboard across the way.

Reiv rose, his face pinched with worry. Take
off the gloves? Now? He would have to eventually, but privately of
course. Surely she didn’t expect him to do it with her here. He
folded his arms and tucked his hands beneath them. How could he
possibly let her see them? She would never look at him the same way
again, and the pain of the hands would be nothing compared to the
anguish of that.