by Cat Bruno
Willem looked closely at Bronwen, and wished that he could refuse to help her, but he knew that if he did, then she would find other means, less safe ones to be sure. There are always ways one can find the dark, but no one escapes without injury, he knew, so reluctantly he shared with her how he would attempt to contact Conri, leaving out much, most of which would involve risk on her part. When he had finished speaking, Bronwen looked relieved, content almost, and Willem was not displeased that he had made her so.
“Look how high the sun is,” she exclaimed, looking toward the now cloudless sky, “most of the morning has passed. I suppose I must leave soon, for we both have much to do.”
He picked up his shirt, thoughtlessly placing it over his tanned face, letting it fall over his scarred and muscled chest before tying it loosely. Bronwen looked down as he did so, no longer able to view him with a detached eye, and no longer able to see him as a teacher, but uncertain how to view him after the last few days.
Finally, he spoke, a curved smile on his face, knowing what Bronwen had been thinking, “I do believe that I should make an appearance at the Master Council, if it is not too late. My absence might be noted, which is not what we need now. Then I shall check on Emil at the clinic. Perhaps I will see you there later.”
Willem paused for a moment as he stood up, looking down at Bronwen as she sat peacefully, rays of sunlight shining about her. Remembering the previous night, he wished that things between them had been different. He had never meant to hurt Bronwen and had drugged the wine more for his own sake than hers, knowing that as soon as she mentioned Conri, he would have to confess all that he knew. From there, the night had unraveled, veering off path as he found himself caring more about her than he had expected, and feeling at odds over her connection with Conri.
Walking toward her, his heart quickened. Without thought, he knelt beside her, as one would to a queen.
“Bronwen, if you have any need, you must come to me at once. My words, although looser because of the wine, were true nonetheless. If it ever becomes your desire to leave, I will be at your side.”
He paused, and she watched the gold of his eyes shine as it circled the blue. He was not lying, she knew then.
“I would have you as mine, if I could. But, as it is, you have been marked for something that even I do not understand. I would take you from all of this, from him, if that is what you want. We can cross the great seas, to lands that few explore. We can head toward the Southern Cove Islands or even farther south, where none could find us. I have gems and jewels to keep us well fed for all of our days, Bronwen. This path he has placed you on does not need to be the one that you walk.”
When he finished, the only sounds to be heard were the sea birds squawks and the distant sound of the sea upon the shore.
Finally, it was she who said, “I know not what path I will walk, Willem, but it will be one of my own choosing.”
With a nod, he rose and quickly said, “We shall talk again soon. You need not hurry off. Stay and enjoy yourself.”
Before Bronwen could thank him, Willem had turned and fled down the limestone path, nearly running. When his back was no longer visible, she sat back on the chair, realizing that she must have leaned forward into Willem while he was talking to her.
Aloud, and to no one but the songbirds overhead, Bronwen mumbled, “What has happened here? Have I gone mad?”
The colorful birds only sang sweeter in response, their tone growing more urgent, matching Bronwen’s mood.
Her head still ached, and Bronwen felt dazed by the warm air and bright sun, and decided to accept at least one of Willem’s offers, lying down on the pillowed bench where he had sat earlier. Before long, she felt her eyes drifting closed, and she let the hands of sleep cradle her, savoring the chance to quiet her mind.
*****
When Master Ammon arrived to the Master’s Hall, the sun was nearly overhead, and he experienced a moment of guilt at his late arrival. As quietly as he could manage, he opened the heavy doors, unwarded today, and slipped into the room, hoping to go unnoticed. Most of the healers were now engaged in informal conversation with one another, in small groups or pairs. Strolling to the back of the immense room, he saw a tray of baked sweets and headed toward them, choosing what seemed to be a lemon-flavored pastry. As he was biting into it, he heard his name being called and turned to find Rova behind him.
Placing an easy smile on his face, despite troubled thoughts, Ammon greeted him warmly, “Good morning to you, sir. I hope that I didn’t miss much.”
“Master Ammon, I hadn’t thought you to be here. When did you arrive?” Rova asked, his voice as calm and gentle as usual.
He swallowed hard before answering, “I only just arrived,” simply, offering little else.
Rova nodded, “There was some talk about our enrollment numbers, and the idea was raised about where on campus grounds we should erect a new building. Nothing final was decided yet, though I believe that soon we will no longer have much choice but to commence expanding. I wonder, though, if you might have some time now to discuss a whole other matter. One that I do not wish to share with our fellow healers quite yet.”
The look of Rova’s face had changed, deepened with a seriousness that surprised Ammon, causing him to wonder if his secrets, especially the most recent, were still hidden. Rova knew a little of his history and knew his true identity, but he had never revealed any of it as far as Ammon was aware. “I have the rest of the day free. Perhaps it would be best if we went to your office to continue this discussion,” Master Ammon said, knowing that Bronwen was due at the clinic later in the evening.
Rova glanced around the room, which was nearly empty except for Masters Ellaine and Joahan, who had seated themselves on a small couch, both quietly reading.
“It seems that we are mostly alone now. And I had hoped that Ellaine would be able to offer her thoughts as well. Shall we join them, then?”
The two men, one robed in the traditional flowing fabric of healers long dead and the other in Rexterran hunting garb, crossed the room to where the couple sat, waiting and speaking quietly to each other.
It was Ellaine that first noticed the men, calling out, “Ah, so you have found Master Ammon after all. Please sit, sirs, and let us get started.”
Master Ammon sensed that he was the only one of the four remaining that had little idea about what needed to be discussed, so he waited in silence until Rova began explaining what he had discovered. Willem moved little, listening intently, while betraying nothing, as the man continued speaking. Soon, Ammon’s heart seemed to thicken, thumping away loudly under his fine, delicate shirt. Did I not just have a similar discussion with Bronwen?
And so it begins, he concluded, fearful and saddened, both more deeply than ever before, having fallen so far from where he had been when the sun first rose. And knowing with an ache that would never vanish that Bronwen could never be his.
*****
When she woke, the sun blazed directly overhead, although she stayed cool. She looked up and noticed that, while she dozed, a large parasol had been placed aside the bench, shading her from the midday heat. Reluctant to leave, yet knowing that it was well past time that she report to the clinic, Bronwen slowly raised herself from the soft cushions and looked toward the villa, wondering if she should exit out the side gate or through the main doors. Realizing that she still wore no shoes, Bronwen walked back across the lush courtyard and into a hallway that would lead her back toward Willem’s rooms.
After she arrived, Bronwen couldn’t help but notice that the room had been cleaned, fresh linens on the bed, wine glasses and food trays removed, even the gowns were now gone. The only items that remained out of place were her two flat, leather sandals that had been placed at the end of the bed. Bronwen sat down on the edge carefully, as not to wrinkle the new coverlet, and put her sandals on, glancing at the mural once again.
Still, the woman painted there troubled Bronwen, although she hadn’t yet discovered why. Maybe it was the sa
d eyes that stared into the empty reflecting glass or the darkness that seemed to swirl about her bod. The mural was neatly hued in shades of blue, yet what struck Bronwen the most was the way that the light seemed to halo the dark, wrapping around it as an embrace. Without black or gray, the artist still hinted at a darkness around the girl, as if shadowed. The effect was a stunning one, she thought.
As she went down the hall, Bronwen waved shyly at Chien who peered at her from behind a basket of damp bedding, wondering if she would see the delicate woman again. But for now, the real world awaited her, and Bronwen, still somewhat baffled at all that had transpired, glided home.
*****
Willem’s head was heavy and his mouth dry, and he could feel sweat dripping down his back, his fine-spun shirt sticking to his body. Ellaine and Joahan had departed only moments before, off on a joint mission to track down Master Tywinne. For now, the four healers had concluded that it was best if no one else knew of Rova’s findings in the garden. They had all briefly examined the atraglacia, although no one held it directly. It still glowed slightly, but Master Rova had assured them that when he had first spotted it among the low-lying, large comfrey leaves, it shone nearly as bright as a star in the night sky. No one doubted him, not now.
Willem had shared what little he could without betraying himself or Bronwen, telling the other three what he had learned in Rexterra about the black-ice. And, even then, what he remembered was of minor help, thus, the reason for Ellaine and Joahan’s quest to find Master Tywinne.
Rova interrupted the silence and said, “Master Ammon, there is something else that I would ask you, concerning Bronwen. How do you think she has taken to Master Apprentice?”
Although his life pulse seemed to jump, Willem kept his face clear and his voice even as he said, “Bronwen has been well-trained, and more than that, I think, she has a natural ability to heal, which you yourself must be well aware of. Although she is quite talented, she has not been one to boast or compare herself to other healers. On the contrary, and this might be her main fault, she keeps mostly to herself, choosing to work alone while she is at the clinic. She has been a little distracted lately, sir, but her work has not suffered for it. Do you have some concerns regarding her apprenticeship?”
High Master Rova shook his head, “I do not know what is going on with the girl. She has been missing classes lately, keeping more to herself than usual, even spending less time with her foster mother. I have long viewed her as a daughter, Ammon, and perhaps I only worry as a father might. And now with this business with the Tribe, my concern for her only grows. Did you know that several Masters would not have seen me promote her to apprentice?”
Surprised by Master Rova’s admissions and newly embarrassed by his own behavior the night before, Ammon’s voice cracked as he answered, “I must say that I am surprised to hear that, as I have found Bronwen to be more talented than most, much more so than myself. I had heard that she had been ill of late, and, while she has been less frequent at the clinic this past quarter-moon, I cannot complain about her devotion there. Perhaps it is her Northern blood that has some worried.”
“Yes, that is what I have told myself these last few days, being unable to talk to Bronwen herself. But none of that matters much now. We have much larger problems I’m afraid. Unless the two are connected.”
Willem could no longer guard his reaction, overcome by Rova’s last statement, and he coughed to disguise his stunned look, golden eyes wide with fear, mouth falling open.
Alarmed, he replied, “You can’t possibly seem to think that Bronwen is responsible for the Tribe here, Rova! Do you know more than what you told us earlier?”
“Only a feeling in these old bones of mine. Perhaps I just need to talk with her and see for myself what is going on. And, I admit, I do not have much experience with Northerners, as we have not had many here at the Academy. If I recall, you have some Northern blood in you, do you not, Ammon?”
He hesitated, uncomfortable talking about his past beyond what Rova already knew. Then, he stated, simply, that he had Northern blood from his mother, but quickly changed the subject after that, hoping to avoid talking about Bronwen and his own secrets.
Master Rova gently rose from where he had been sitting, his bones creaking as he did so, and Willem stood up as well. He followed a few steps behind as High Master Rova walked toward the entry room, only turning back once when he thought that he heard a shuffling noise at the back of the room. Figuring that the noise was most likely a bird that had flown in at some time during the morning, he quickened his pace to catch up with Master Rova, which did not take long.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry, Master?” Willem asked.
Speaking over his shoulder and without slowing his step, which, due to his age, was not a hasty one, Rova answered, “I think it is time to examine what we are facing, and I know no better place to start than the library. You may join me if you are not needed at the clinic.”
“Well, I admit that you have piqued my own interests, and I am as curious as you to see what we might discover.”
The two Masters walked the short distance to the library and entered the massive doors. Willem felt a mix of guilt and curiosity, wondering what they could possibly find, and how it all would affect Bronwen. Then, he remembered the words that he had spoken to her before departing the villa, his vow to take her from the Academy if necessary, and his cheeks blazed at the memory. Yet, he knew them to be the truest words he had ever spoken.
28
Without quite knowing how, Kennet found himself sitting on a thick, colorful blanket, staring from Pietro to the calm sea, wondering what he was doing drinking wine at barely midday when he had much to do in the library. Plus, he could barely think straight, his head was still aching from a combination of the previous night’s ale and what he had overheard in the Master’s Hall.
He looked down beside the large basket that sat in the middle of the blanket and noticed the book of fables lying next to it, having forgotten to deliver it after all. When he had finally arrived at Pietro’s room, Kennet was flustered and sweating, desperate to find Bronwen. He had even managed to run by her rooms, yet they were empty, which surprised him too. Then, he wondered if it might be best to keep what he had heard from her, knowing how close Master Rova was to the truth. In the end, on his run between Bronwen’s rooms and Pietro’s, Kennet decided that what he had to do first was convince her to stay away from the library’s archives, no matter what her reasons were for going there. Until he could find her, there was little to do. So, after staring slack-jawed at Pietro’s well-appointed rooms, he had followed him to the beach.
Kennet looked over to where Pietro gleamed, nearly as bright as the Southern sun, his hair light and shining, his smile white and even. When the two had been walking to the beach, Pietro explained his plans to Kennet, going over in great detail the part where Kennet and Louissia must leave the beach, allowing Pietro to be alone with Talia. Kennet doubted that it would work, but agreed only when he realized that it would silence the talkative Rexterran. His part was relatively simple, show up and make conversation with Louissia, which he had quite enjoyed last night, until he had upset her, which was what he was trying to fix.
To Pietro’s credit, everything seemed taken care of, leaving little for Kennet to do except wait for the girls to arrive. As he was waiting, he accepted the offered sweet wine from Pietro and now sipped it slowly, admitting to himself that the wine did seem to dull his aching head. After taking a few more sips, Kennet turned his head, listening as women’s laughter echoed across the deserted beach.
“Ah, here they come now, Kenny. Do not forget that when I start packing up the dishes, you need to invite Louissia for a walk. Try to relax and enjoy yourself. If there is silence, let her speak. Smile and laugh at her stories. And, for the love of the light, kiss her this time Kennet.”
After hearing Pietro’s advice, Kennet drained his glass and waited for the girls to approach, trying to decide w
hether he liked or disliked his new friend, and, as Talia and Louissia neared, he still had not decided.
In a bellowing voice sweetened with honey, Pietro called, “Kennet, look what we have here, two beautiful sea vixens come out of the waves to tempt us to join them in their underwater world,” then he fell to his knees, bowing down to the giggling girls before continuing, “I am yours, my ladies. Only kiss my lips so that I may breathe and live under the sea with you.”
Even Kennet had to laugh at the way Pietro was throwing himself at the girls, pretending to swim in the sand and becoming covered, his splendidly white robe now a dirty beige.
Talia squeaked out, “Oh, Pietro! I shall kiss you before you injure yourself!”
As she bent down and placed a swift kiss on his lips, Pietro flapped to his back, lying still, and whispered, “And now the harpy has poisoned me with lips as soft as the finest silk, tangled me in her web of hair, and bewitched me with her sea-tinted eyes. How shall I live after such a kiss?”
Before anyone could speak, Pietro had gently grabbed Talia’s bare leg and brought her down crashing upon him until they were both covered in sand and laughing hard. Louissia stood apart from all three of them, smiling patiently. He knew he must greet her, yet the wine had done little for his courage.
It was she who spoke first, and, in a lightly accented voice, said, “Hello, Kennet. So nice to see you this afternoon. I had hoped that you would be here, especially with those two around! Would you mind if I sat down?”
Feeling embarrassed by his lack of manners, Kennet nodded, unable to get any words out and smoothed over the blanket, brushing away the mess that Pietro had made.
When he recovered, he offered Louissia a glass of the sweet wine, and, after she took it, refilled his own glass, wishing that they had brought something stronger than the honeyed wine. He remembered his grandfather telling him that some men found their courage at the bottom of a wine barrel, and Kennet could now understand why.