The Healer's Legacy (17 page)

Holder Tem stood at the edge of the cloak in obvious embarrassment. “I should have spread out my cloak for you,” he said. “It was unthinking of me not to be chivalrous.”

Kira gave him a crooked smile. “Holder Tem, consideration is not for men alone to exercise.” Vaith chose that moment to land between them. He furled his wings, squawked and gave Kira an expectant look. “Nor does it come naturally to wyverns.” She laughed and held out a scrap of cooked fowl for Vaith.

The holder unrolled his parcels and spread out a small feast of breads, meats, cheeses, and fruit.

“You seem prepared for more than a morning of hunting,” Kira said.

“Thank Brilissa. She feeds me as if every meal might be my last.” He was silent for a moment, a frown drawing his face down.

Kira focused on tearing off another piece of meat. She held the morsel out to Vaith and caught the holder staring at her. Vaith took the fowl from her hand and shredded it into strips. One by one he plucked the pieces up and swallowed them. Kelmir padded out of the brush and sat beside Kira. She gave him a hunk of fowl.

The holder picked up a thick slice of meat and held it out toward Kelmir. “May I offer him this?”

“By all means,” Kira said. Kelmir stepped around the edge of the cloak to stand beside the holder. Without taking his eyes from the holder’s face, he leaned forward, sniffed, then tilted his head sideways and took the meat from the man’s hand, each movement slow and deliberate. With the meat in his mouth, he glanced at Kira, then lay down a few feet away to enjoy his prize.

“It’s odd,” the holder said, watching Kelmir and Vaith eat. “After my brother’s death, I thought I would never hunt in these woods again.” He took in a deep breath before continuing. “Yet, today, with you and your companions . . . ” He shrugged. “I was so taken with them, with the idea of them, I had no other thought. It was if I had forgotten . . .”

“I’m sorry, Holder Tem, I hadn’t considered—”

“No.” He held up his hand. “I’m glad of it. It has been a long time since I was able to forget, to think of something else for a time.”

“That we think of the living doesn’t mean we have forgotten those who have returned to the wheel,” Kira quoted. She heard Heresta’s voice echo her own as she spoke. “And sorrow must someday give way to hope.”

He gave her a strange look, the corner of his mouth contracted into a half smile. “I once thought I would never be hopeful again. Kamar’s death was more than the loss of a brother. It was the loss of freedom for me.”

Kira found his words strange. She knew the loss of freedom, knew what it was to be caged, but what could a man of privilege know of such things? “I don’t understand.”

“My brother was firstborn, heir to Tem Hold by both tradition and law. When I was very young, I was jealous of his position, yet I admired him. My father tried to instill in both of us the roles and responsibilities of leadership. But as I grew older, I realized I was grateful that Kamar, not I, was Tem Hold’s heir. It allowed me freedoms my brother never enjoyed.”

He picked up a handful of dried berries and chewed them one by one, his eyes focused on some distant place or time. “Kamar was suited to be holder. I never was,” he said finally.

“It seems to me you’re a fine holder. Your hold is prosperous. And your people seem content.” Kira nibbled at a piece of cheese.

“Content? Yes, they are that. But I would have them more than content.”

Kira recalled her discussion with Brilissa. “You would have them rule themselves.”

“Yes.” His blue eyes filled with light. “I would give them the freedom to make their own choices, to decide their own fates.”

“A noble ideal, but one that many will not share.”

“I’m not concerned with what the other holders may think. They are blind to what the people desire. And I am not so selfless as my ideas might suggest. In offering my people freedom from one man’s rule, I gain freedom for myself.”

“But as a holder, you are free to do as you will.”

His brow wrinkled.  “Power is not freedom. I am yoked to my position just as any man or woman.”

“You could choose to leave the hold to your nephew.”

“Yes, I have choices, but I must also live with the consequences of those choices. If I chose to leave Tem Hold in the hands of my nephew, he might grow to rule, though how wisely I cannot yet tell.” He paused, seemed lost in thought for a moment, then his brow furrowed and he continued. “There are also those who might see him as too young to keep a hold under his sway. In the southern regions, there are many second and third sons of holders who wish to rule but have no lands of their own. If they took Tem Hold from Tratine, I would always know that I was to blame. And if the people are treated badly by the next holder, be it Tratine or some other, would I not be responsible for their plight?”

Kira stopped eating as she considered his words. She understood a sense of responsibility. Heresta had thoroughly ingrained the idea in her. But the concept that rulers could be tied to their rank by a sense of accountability and not just their worship of power and position had not occurred to her. Choices bring consequences.

The holder smiled, his eyes filled with mirth, and she followed his gaze. Vaith had helped himself to a large hunk of meat. He stood in the grass a few steps away and watched her out of the corner of one green-yellow eye as he rapidly tore off large chunks and swallowed them whole. 

“Vaith! My apologies, Holder Tem. As you can see I have not been able to teach him proper manners,” Kira said with a shrug.

“Perhaps, his manners are proper for the company of wyverns and he merely honors us,” the holder offered. “As for manners, I would have you call me Milos. I’m not overly fond of titles, especially between friends.”

Kira paused. She had grown comfortable with her role and title of hunter. If he wished to forego his title, he would want her to do the same. To give him a name to call her by would require another lie. “Are you sure that would be proper? There are those in your hold who might find it unseemly.”

“There are some privileges my position allows that I would take advantage of. Offering the use of my personal name to whom I choose is one of them.” His deep blue eyes held hers and her scalp prickled. “Unless there is some reason that you would not give up the use of titles between us,” he added.

Kira turned away. Something made her want to trust this man, but fear kept her in check. “You may call me Ardea,” she said. What would be the harm in letting him call her by her mother’s name?

“Thank you, Ardea.” His smile was warm and open.

A thorn of guilt twisted through her. She studied the sky and realized the morning was gone. “We’ll be missing the midday meal, Hold—Milos. And Milvari will be expecting me for her lessons.” She began gathering up the remains of their meal.

Milos remained seated. “One late lesson will not harm her,” he said. “I wish to know more about you, Ardea.”

Kira tensed as she rolled bread and cheese up in one of the cloths, recalling how another man had once said much the same thing to her. How warm he had seemed. How charming. “What more would you know?” Her hands shook.

He took the roll of food from her, his fingers brushing hers. “I wish to know if you would consider staying on at Tem Hold after the winter storms have abated.”

Fear and excitement stirred her blood. “Stay on?”

“Brilissa brags of your skills and my niece thrives under your tutelage,” he said in a rush.

Kira’s world shrunk. The trees seemed to lean toward her and the air collapsed against her. She shivered, felt as if a dark cloud had swept across the sun. “I cannot stay.” Her voice seemed to come from someplace far outside herself.

She forced her hand to remain steady as she picked up the last of the meat and gave it to Kelmir. The big cat had been lying patiently in the grass, his head resting on his front paws. He sat up and took the meat. Kira wiped her fingers on the grass.

“Cannot? Or will not?” the holder asked. Disappointment was plain in his voice.

Kira turned to face him. His eyes had lost their light.

A mix of emotions tugged at her heart and mind. Tem Hold seemed a safe haven, a place she might come to call home. She had grown to care for Milvari, grown to appreciate Brilissa’s warm heart and kitchen, grown to like this tall brooding man. All the more reason she couldn’t stay. She would soon be a danger to them. “Holder Tem . . . Milos.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “There are things about me you do not know. Reasons I cannot stay.”

He turned his eyes away. “Of course, you’re free to do as you please, Hunter.” He picked up the last of their things, shook out her cloak and handed it to her, keeping his face averted. He untied his horse, put his foot into the stirrup, and slid into the saddle. “We should return to the hold. After all, we each have our responsibilities to attend to.”

They rode through the forest in silence, moving in and out of shadows as the sun passed high overhead. The holder led the way, his back and shoulders an insurmountable barricade.

Kelmir moved silently off to the left and Vaith flew ahead, flitting from tree to tree. Kira had closed her mind to them and they kept their distance, allowing her to sink into herself.

A loud hiss roused her from her thoughts with sudden alertness. Zharik screamed and reared back. Milos tried to bring the animal under control, but the horse’s eyes were white with fear. Kira leaped out of the saddle and ran forward to grab Zharik’s reins as the terrified horse reared again. Forelegs flailed and Kira ducked.

Another loud hiss erupted beside the trail. Kira kept her face averted. She dived away from the sound. A hoof caught her on the shoulder and she dropped to the ground. For an instant all she could see was a sharp yellow beak, a long black tongue below fiery eyes. A large basilisk arched its neck, preparing to strike.

Kira froze. The basilisk raised its head. A loud screech descended on them. The basilisk looked up.
No, Vaith!

The brush beside the trail exploded into a dark shadow that sprang at the creature. Kelmir struck as the basilisk spewed its venom.

Liquid fire burst forth, burning through her shirt and searing her skin.

Kira screamed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The chill wind ran icy fingers along Mayet’s face and crept beneath her cloak as she stepped down from the carriage. She shuddered as the icy air swept aside the warmth from the fur blankets she had nested in for the better part of the day.

Her gaze passed over the faces of the few folk who had gathered to greet her. Household staff and servants. She scowled. Peasants all. Where was Milos? Where was the customary holder’s welcome her station demanded? The redheaded she-dog was missing, too. If Milos and that wanton were together . . . No. It didn’t matter. A burgeoning smile chased the scowl from her face. I hold the spokes now, she thought. The next turn of the wheel will move things in my favor.

Ignoring the servants, she picked up her skirts and strode into the main hall with her son by her side. “Tratine, see that my trunks are brought up and send someone to the kitchen for mulled wine. I’ll be in my chambers. And find out where your uncle is, I would speak with him as soon as may be.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a look.

The hallway leading to her rooms was empty, and she slipped off the fur-lined gloves Lisana had given her when the weather turned harsh. At least her callow little cousin had the decency to ensure her guests were comfortable. Although, the gifting was probably more a matter of showing off her new wealth than actual concern for the comfort of others. What need did Lisana have to conciliate others? She was a wealthy holder’s wife now. Very wealthy.

Mayet shoved open the door to her sitting room. A low fire crackled in the hearth. She shrugged off her heavy cloak into a heap on the floor and rolled her head to loosen the muscles of her neck. A hot bath would remove the knots, but first she had business to discuss with Lord Milos. A little matter of restoration. The hunter to her master, Tem Hold to its former rules.

Someone rapped at the door. Mayet smiled. Perhaps Milos had mistaken the time of her arrival and had come to apologize.

“Come in,” Mayet cooed.

Alyn entered the room, a heavy goblet in one hand, and a steaming jug in the other. “Your wine, m’Lady.”

Mayet’s neck stiffened. She glared at the girl. “Set it on the table. Must I tell you how to do everything?”

The girl seemed startled. “No, m’Lady.” She hurried to set down the wine and nearly tripped on the cloak heaped in the middle of the room.

“Then why is the fire dying?”

The girl flushed crimson. “It isn’t my  . . .”

Mayet spun around to face her. “What?”

“I beg your pardon, m’Lady, but I am assigned to the kitchen. The upkeep of your rooms is not among my duties.”

Mayet’s hands flew to her hips. “Your job is what I say it is. If you wish to retain your current position, you’ll remember that.”

The girl stared at her a moment, then lowered her eyes to the floor. She opened the grate and placed several small logs on the fire, poking the embers and the burning wood with a metal rod to encourage the flames. Soon, a bright blaze warmed the room.

As the girl stood up to leave, Mayet snapped her fingers. “My cloak.”

Alyn picked up the cloak. She brushed the folds out with brusque strokes, then hung the garment on a peg near the door. Her face was blank when she turned back to Mayet. “Will there be anything else?”

Uppity disobedient girl, Mayet thought, she should be punished. But all in good time. She waved a hand at the door. “You may go, for now.” She poured a glass of the spiced wine and inhaled the scent of sweet herbs as the door clicked shut behind the girl. Sasson Hold might claim a more obedient staff, but their kitchen was no match for Tem Hold’s.

She let a small laugh bubble to the surface. It felt good to be home, to put the servants in their place. Sasson Hold’s subservient staff had been a welcome reminder of the way things should be. Soon Tem Hold would be able to boast of the docility of its own staff. She sipped the warm brew as she went over her arguments once more. Until her visit at Sasson Hold, she hadn’t realized just how far out of hand things had become at home. Milos would need strong persuading to return things to the way they should be.

She glanced down at the rumpled folds of her dress. Perhaps it would be better to bathe and dress appropriately before presenting her case.