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 bo
y 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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Milvari ran back to the hold, the bundle of flowers gripped in her hand. She glanced down at the white sticky layer covering her fingertip in amazement. This was a whole new world to her. Plants that healed, plants that calmed, even plants that could make a person or animal rush around in a mad fit. She knew Brilissa used plants to flavor the hold’s meals. The kitchen was always filled with the rich scent of spices and seasonings. But she’d had no idea that the things growing in fields and forest could be used for so much else.
She stopped and stood panting outside the main gate, fearful someone might notice her. Head down, she hurried to the stable and slipped inside. Harl was in the back, raking out the stalls and humming to himself as he worked. She had often watched him, following unnoticed as he fed and curried the horses. She’d even seen him slip under a layer of fresh straw to nap now and then. Sometimes when Harl was asleep and no one else was about, Milvari would take down the brushes and combs and stroke one of the horses, brushing its hair and combing out the long mane and tail. She loved the feel of the horse’s muscles as they rippled under her hands and the way the animals listened as she talked to them, sharing her secrets.
But for most of the past half moon, instead of Harl she had watched the hunter, fascinated. There were no women like her in all of her uncle’s land. At least, none that ever came to Tem Hold. Her mother insisted that proper ladies wore fine dresses and never dirtied their hands. Fine ladies sew. They direct the work of others. They do not deign to kneel in the dirt, she’d told her.
She looked down at her dusty skirt and dirt streaked hands and frowned. If not for Uncle Milos’s firm insistence, Milvari’s mother would not have even allowed her to learn to read and write. But this hunter was different. She rode a fine horse. She knew how to read, how to write. And she did not expect others to do work she herself would not.
Milvari took the flowers into the storage room and hung them in the corner behind a stack of wooden crates. People rarely went into the back corners of the room. The little bundle of stalks would dry safely out of sight. Milvari knew she would never be what her mother called a proper lady. She wanted to run like the boys in the hold, to wear breeches, to ride out over the fields and meadows, to have her own horse to curry and brush. The hunter did all these things and more.
Milvari longed to be like this tall pale woman who had come down the eastern pass before it had collapsed. She’d heard Harl telling the other boys about the troll the hunter had fought and killed. She couldn’t imagine anyone committing such a heroic deed. She remembered how she’d watched from the shadows as Harl told the other boys the story.
The thin piece of claw had glinted in the lamplight as Harl held it out in the palm of his hand.
“It’s all lies,” Tratine said.
“It’s true,” Harl insisted. “How else did she get this?”
“How do you know that’s even from a troll?” Tratine asked. “You’ve never seen one.”
One of the other boys laughed.
“It’s the wrong shape for a bear,” Harl said. “It’s too big for anything else. And it’s sharp as a knife blade.” He drew the claw across a piece of hardened leather, demonstrating to his audience the keen edge of the black shard.
Milvari had stifled a gasp at the sight, not wanting to make her presence known. She would have liked to see the claw close up, but Harl kept it with him, and Milvari couldn’t ask him to show it to her. She wouldn’t know how to talk to him. And if her mother found out, she’d surely be punished. Besides, she had always learned more by sitting quietly out of the way and listening to others talk than most people did by asking questions. She reached up and stroked the soft petals of the helmet flowers dangling from the beam. It had always been better to watch from the shadows.
In the main hall, during their daily lessons, Milvari had watched the strange woman expectantly. She hadn’t known what she was waiting for, only that there should be something more to this tall female who was so unlike the proper ladies Milvari’s mother chatted about at length. It was only a feeling, but it had settled in the pit of her stomach, curled tight with anticipation. But each afternoon’s lessons with the hunter had been merely ordinary, reading, writing and a smattering of sums practice.
Until today.
Today’s lesson had begun the same as the others, but then everything changed. Out in the sunshine, as Milvari trekked across the cleared fields to the river, the anticipation inside her had uncurled, becoming a stirring of excitement and curiosity. She had followed behind Tratine as usual, but this time she struggled to keep her feet from running away with her. Her brother stood by in his usual haughty manner, unaware that the hunter revealed to them magical secrets and wonders beyond anything they’d been shown before.
She touched the flower petals once more, then wrapped her arms about herself, as if to hold in her new knowledge. She clos
ed her eyes and, leaf and flower, went over each detail of the day’s lesson in her mind. As she pictured each plant, she began to see a pattern, the way they were connected to their medicinal properties and where they grew in relation to the river and to one another. This was learning she understood better than sums or reading. She hugged herself tighter. Would the hunter be willing to share more of her wondrous knowledge?
Milvari thought about the small book with the brush hen’s picture. She opened her eyes and jumped up. Just inside the storeroom doorway, she paused and peeked out. Harl continued raking out the back stalls, still humming off-key. Milvari slipped out of the stable. The late afternoon sunlight was still bright enough to make her blink after the darkness of the storeroom as she made her way toward the main building.
The hall was a flurry of hustling and bustling. She skirted around tables being readied for the evening meal, dodging kitchen staff carrying plates and cups, baskets of fruit and pitchers of ale that glistened with beaded moisture. No one paid her any heed. Milvari was used to being invisible. Since her father’s death, she kept to herself and tried not to be seen by anyone, especially her mother. She walked quietly over to the side of the room used for their afternoon lessons. The small stack of books that the hunter taught from sat on the shelf. Milvari picked them up one at a time and sifted through the pages. There was nothing about plants.
She thought again about the little book and wondered if the hunter had brought it with her, or if it was one of the books Uncle Milos had provided for their lessons. Perhaps there were others like it tucked between the scrolls and books in her uncle’s study. She had to find out, but she’d never been allowed in her uncle’s personal rooms. The study was in the west wing off the main hall and part of her uncle’s private rooms, the one place in the hold reserved for the holder alone. She refused to think about what might happen if her uncle found her there. Milvari bit her lip to keep herself from shaking. She would have to be truly invisible to get into the library without being seen.
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