by Anny Cook
Without arguing, she followed his suggestion and immediately felt more in control. Tyger slipped on the shoulder harness for the cart and they were on their way with a brief wave to the villagers. The next stop was Dai’s Hamlet, a half day’s walk through the heavily wooded Sanctuary Preserve that ran the length of Sanctuary Hill.
Tyger set a brisk pace as they traveled the rough trail but Samara made no complaints. Both had the uncanny feeling that hidden eyes were watching them. The uncomfortable sensation increased the farther they walked. Suddenly Tyger halted and asked her, “Do you mind helping to pull the cart?”
“No, of course not.” In puzzlement, she watched him remove the harness and carefully pile it on the fleeces. Realization dawned when he lifted his punchbow from beneath the fleeces and slipped the carrying sling over his shoulder.
“If you’ll take this side, that will leave my bow arm free,” he muttered under his breath.
She moved into position and seized the carved handle on the left-hand shaft while he took the right. In a few moments they had worked out a smooth rhythm so that they were working in tandem. Strangely enough the uncomfortable feeling of being watched faded away almost at once when Tyger donned the punchbow. Evidently, whoever watched them wasn’t willing to take on a fully armed warrior.
The sun was low in the sky when they finally hauled the cart into the center of Dai’s Hamlet. Long before they reached the village they had agreed to break their journey there with an overnight stay. While Tyger went to find the village chief to arrange accommodations, Samara slumped on the bench next to the bakery and kept an eye on the cart. She fell into a light doze, wearily semiconscious of the life in movement around her. She jerked upright when a surprised shout nearby startled her awake. A man was staggering aimlessly through the village. It took her several shocked seconds to realize that it was Bishop. Leaping to her feet, she rushed to catch him before he could fall to his knees.
“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded anxiously.
“Mmhpw.”
The heavy scent of stale sex gusted in her face. “Never mind,” she declared in disgust. “It’s obvious what your problem is. You went to see Susie.” Backing away from him, she turned to find someone to take him back to wherever he was staying.
A heavy thunk following by a wordless cry had her whirling back to see what was wrong. Bishop was crumpled in a heap on the ground, the hilt of a flicknife protruding from his back. Screaming like a banshee, she reached toward him. A second flicknife whizzed past her and burrowed into the ground on the far side of Bish next to his head. Shrieking at the top of her lungs, she dropped to her knees and huddled over him.
Villagers came running from every direction. Tyger lifted her away from Bish and shook her when she fought him. “Enough! Quit the screaming and tell us what happened!”
She stared at him in bewilderment.
“Samara! What happened here?”
Eyes wildly darting at the villagers surrounding them, she stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to escape. Then tears welled up. “Someone killed Bish…” she whimpered. “I just turned away to summon a man to help him get home.” She stopped and swallowed. “And I heard a thump. Tyger, he was on the ground.”
Tyger shook her again, more gently but firmly enough to focus her attention. “Then what happened? Did you see who did it?”
“No…” She sank to the ground next to Bishop and curled up, sobbing.
Lark, the village healer, rushed up to the muttering knot of people. They quickly gave way, making room for her to examine Bishop. “You can stop with the wailing, Samara. He’s not dead yet,” she said dryly. “Of course, if we just leave him lying on the ground, I’m sure we could change that.”
Immediately two of the men ran to retrieve the stretcher from the barter keeper’s hut. Others went to fetch blankets while the four warriors from the village discussed the next steps to be taken. Tyger shared the information about the stranger Samara had encountered earlier that morning.
A child yanked on Tyger’s sharda. He stared down into Mara’s anxious face. “I saw the bad man,” she said solemnly. “He was over there!” She pointed past the butcher’s shop to the trail leading to Dai’s Retreat.
Squatting down so that he was on her level, Tyger asked, “What did he look like?”
She nibbled on a dusty finger in thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know, Mara?” Tyger questioned her calmly though his gut was pushing for haste.
Mara leaned closer as though to tell him a secret. “He had on a funny hat,” she whispered.
“Jacob?”
Mara’s father, Jacob, had been listening to the dialogue with interest. He knew at once what Tyger needed. Kneeling down next to Mara, he gently probed her mind, searching her memories for Bishop’s attacker. In a few moments, he looked up at Tyger. “He had something—maybe a piece of cloth—wrapped around his head. All that was uncovered were his eyes and he wasn’t close enough for her to see them clearly.”
“No one that you recognized?”
Jacob shook his head decisively. “Not from this village.”
Tyger looked over his shoulder at the small group working on Bishop. Samara was kneeling at his head, very gently stoking his forehead while Lark slowly withdrew the flicknife, in incredibly tiny increments, force-healing Bish as she worked it free. Llyon was already on his way but at his best speed, he wouldn’t make it to Dai’s Hamlet until later tonight.
He heard Rafael, the village chief, ask her, “What else can we do to help you, Lark?”
“This man needs a semtorn,” she replied grimly. “He’s been in the valley too long. Without the change, I may not be able to save him.”
“I will serve,” Tyger volunteered quietly.
“No! I will.” Samara’s determination was clear for all to see.
“Can you bring him around enough to agree, Lark?”
“It won’t do any good.”
Tyger turned to confront the man walking into the clearing. “Why not?”
“Dai still has him under compulsion. No speech,” Gar explained briefly.
“This isn’t a bonding. He needs to consent.”
Bishop, wake up!
Uuuuh.
No, wake up! You have to wake up now. I need you to give consent!
S’mara? Go ‘way, babe. I’m no good f’r you.
She gripped his earlobes and pinched hard. Pay attention to me! I need to bite you. Lark says she can’t heal you without the bite! You know what the bite means. I know that Dai told you.
Why you wanna bite me? You don’ like me anymore.
She wanted to weep with frustration. I am going to bite you and when you get well enough, I’m going to bite you again someplace where you’ll remember it!
Bishop’s fingers curled feebly as he gasped loud enough for Lark to hear.
S’okay. You bite me wherev’r ya want.
“I asked him and he gave his consent.” Not waiting for further discussion, Samara shifted until she was curled next to Bish’s body. Her hair brushed his chin as she nuzzled his dusty shoulder. Then with an inner strength she’d never suspected in herself she bit down, her sharp fangs piercing his skin.
Lark’s eyes met Tyger’s in query. They have an attachment?
Curtly, he nodded. I’ve suspected it was so. This will change things.
Oh, you think so? Lark snorted under her breath as she returned to her healing.
Samara withdrew her fangs, languidly licking the punctures.
Samara…
Go to sleep, Bish. Everything will be all right now. Slowly, his body tight with pain relaxed as consciousness faded. With a deep sigh of relief, she moved away, sitting close by. Exhaustion pulled at her.
Rafael’s bond mate, Gracia, lightly touched her shoulder. “Samara? Come with me. The guesthouse is ready.”
Fighting back an instinctive need to stay, Samara allowed Tyger and Gracia to he
lp her to her feet. With one last glance back, she turned to follow Gracia across the village center to the tiny guest hut.
Chapter Nineteen
Samara returns to Lost Market
An eight-day later Samara finally returned to Lost Market. Uncomfortable and at loss for an explanation for her behavior, she had nevertheless visited Bishop each day. Bish refused to discuss his visit to Susie. Actually, he remained mute, no matter what she said and he stubbornly blocked all mental speech. As the days wore by with stilted one-sided conversations and no acknowledgement of her actions on that event-filled day, she reluctantly listened to the entreaties of her parents and returned home.
The weather turned cold and dreary as winter approached. Rebelliously Samara unpacked her winter meerlims and warm boots and heavy winter shawls the same afternoon she wearily walked into Lost Market. Where had fall gone? Her father and mother arrived with a load of firewood for her small stove. While her father stacked the wood on her back porch, Rebaccah presented her with a basket of cookies and a warm sweet pie. “Sit down and tell me about it,” she commanded, pointing to an empty chair. “Don’t leave anything out.”
With a careless shrug, Samara said, “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Do you take me for a fool? I’m your mother.” Rebaccah filled the kettle at the sink and then set it on the fire with an annoyed thump. “You served as his semtorn, Samara. You are an unbonded female.”
“And not likely to be bonded either!”
“So what possessed you to do that? Why on earth would you tie yourself to an unbonded male? What will happen when he finds a bond mate?” Rebaccah threw up her hands in disgust. “Do you wish to share his mind when he beds another woman?”
“I don’t know! All I know is that I had to do it. Me! Not someone else.”
Her mother sat down with a thump and shot her a thunderstruck look. “Just like that?”
“Yes. Just like that.”
“Oh, just gag me with a spoon.”
“Mama!”
“I mean it. You claimed him right there in front of an entire village and you think you can make me believe that you didn’t know what you were doing?” Rebaccah slammed her hand down on the table. “Well, we’ll see what new nonsense this leads to. How long did Lark and Llyon say it would take him to recover?”
Samara folded her arms on the table in front of her and dropped her head down in dejection. “Possibly by Midwinter.”
“Heh. Well, that gives us two moons to prepare.” Rebaccah hopped up with renewed energy and began to prepare the tea. “Tomorrow you’ll need to go see Tyger to order your bonding blanket. And then we’ll go to Jailyn to order some new house shifts.” She tapped her chin. “What about linens? Do you need to order anything new from Carol? No need to leave it until the last minute.”
“Mama! What are you talking about?”
“Your bonding. Even a covenant bond is special.”
“Have you lost your mind? Bishop never agreed to a covenant bond! He was barely conscious. Besides, he was on his way back to the farm after spending the night and day with Susie.”
“Yet you volunteered—no, you demanded—the right to serve as his semtorn. You should have thought of that before you bit him.”
Samara shoved back from the table and stomped into the bathing room, slamming the door shut behind her, terrified that she would say something to her mother that she couldn’t take back. Rebaccah shook her head in astonishment before a secret smile crept across her face. Samara might not believe that there was a bonding in her future but Rebaccah would be very, very surprised if that didn’t happen. Very surprised.
Ham opened the back door and entered with a flood of cold air. “Tea?”
“It’s ready.”
“I’ll go wash my hands.” He held up hands covered with muddy streaks.
Rebaccah motioned toward the kitchen sink. “Wash them there. Samara’s having a tantrum in the bathing room.”
He swiftly washed his hands and gratefully took a seat at the table. “Why is our daughter having a tantrum? What did you say to her?”
“Me? Why is it always my fault? I just mentioned that we needed to get busy ordering her bonding blanket so that it would be ready in time.”
“Rebaccah.”
“What?”
“Stay out of it. What they do is their business. Your interference is unwelcome and unnecessary.” He sipped the tea, enjoying the fragrant hot liquid. The temperature outside had dropped significantly while he was stacking the wood. “I know you love Sammie but she has to work this out on her own,” he added quietly. “If they bond then I’ll be incredibly happy to serve as witness.”
“What if they don’t bond?”
“Then I’ll hope and pray that she finds happiness in her own way.” He stood and carried the mug over to the sink. “Now it’s time for us to go home and leave Samara in peace. She has plenty to think about.”
Rebaccah went down the hall and softly knocked on the bathing room door. “Sammie? We’re going now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” When there was no answer, she reluctantly rejoined Hamilton in the kitchen where he silently ushered her out, firmly closing the door behind them.
Samara sat on the side of the tub, staring aimlessly at the wall. What was she going to do now? What if Bishop still didn’t want her? She took a deep, shuddering breath and went out to clean the kitchen. After that, the prospect of a hot bath and bed had an irresistible lure. Tomorrow was another day.
* * * * *
Gray skies barely gave off enough light to illuminate the small room where Bishop rested on a narrow bed next to the fire. Bitter wind rattled the bare branches at the window. Though several blankets were heaped on top of him, still he shivered uncomfortably with cold. The fire provided the only light in the room. There was a light stone on the small table next to the bed but he couldn’t seem to drum up enough interest to touch it.
Samara had not come to see him today. He didn’t blame her. But until she didn’t show up, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been counting on her visits. Huddling under the heavy blankets, he wondered if he would ever be warm again. Her absence left an icy spot in his chest that he suspected no amount of heat or blankets would warm. Crankily he nudged the blankets up closer to his chin. Why didn’t she come to see him today?
The door of the small room banged open but he didn’t bother to open his eyes. He knew without looking that it wasn’t her. Her scent that always alerted him to her presence was absent.
“Well, this is a fine mess.”
Bishop’s eyes flickered open. Dai stood over him, fists on his hips, frowning down at him in annoyance. Bishop closed his eyes, willing the little healer to leave.
“Closing your eyes will not make me go away.” Dai waited in vain for some reaction. Grudging respect for Bishop’s hard-won control kept him from reverting to mind speech. Finally, he fetched the lone chair in the room and sat down next to the bed. “Your punishment is at an end. There is nothing more that you can learn from working with Gar.”
Shoulders hunched, Bish rolled to face the fire so that his back was to Dai. He had nothing to say to the healer. Nothing.
Watching his patient carefully, Dai said, “Samara has gone back to Lost Market.”
Bishop flinched, then appeared to shrink in a tight ball of rejection. Dai nodded in satisfaction. All was not lost, it seemed.
“She was needed at the school. Glenys is pregnant since Trav and Wrenna’s bond storm. There are fewer and fewer women available to do the things that must be done.” Dai pursed his lips, then continued aimlessly with the most recent news. “Tyger and Llyon have moved out to the cottage near Samara so she will not be alone this winter. Arturo has gone to Talking Wall to live with Ban. Perhaps…perhaps they will swear a covenant bond. I hope so.”
“I thought Arturo was on a soul walk with Hawke.” His voice rusty with disuse, Bishop spoke at last.
“He was.” There was silence for a moment as though
Dai was making some difficult mental decision. “The archivists at Talking Wall have made some startling discoveries. When such discoveries come to light—new knowledge that will lead to fundamental changes in the valley, then our laws require that a morkert is part of the decision process. Arturo was chosen for the assignment.”
“Ahhh. And how did he get together with Ban?”
“’Turo was injured in an accident. Hawke accompanied him to Sunrise, left a message for the healer to summon Ban and left. When Ban arrived, apparently they came to an understanding.”
“Apparently.” Bish ruthlessly stifled the chuckles welling up as he was well acquainted with the pain that would seize him if he allowed any movement.
“It was well done. The discoveries they made were very important. Perhaps, of all the people in the valley, they were most important to you.”
Bishop stared into the fire, wondering what new torment Dai was about to visit on him. Finally, when Dai remained silent, he said, “All right. I’ll bite. What new discoveries?”
“They have discovered a way for non-virgins to bond—and have children.” Dai hesitated. “And they have discovered that there are veils in place that hide parts of the valley. It is possible that the veils also conceal exits from the valley.”
Bish flinched again. Then slowly he rolled over to face Dai. “Impossible choices you offer me, Dai. Especially now that Samara bit me.”
“I know. Do you remember that day?”
“A little. I remember how disgusted she was when she realized that I had been with Susie. I remember her turning away and then feeling like someone had hit me in the back with a heavy rock.” Bish covered his eyes with his forearm and sighed. “I remember her voice yelling at me, telling me that I needed the bite to live. She kept screaming at me to pay attention…that I had to give her permission to bite me. Finally, I told her yes so that she would stop the yelling. It was giving me a headache. I’m surprised someone didn’t make her shut up.”
“No one heard her but you. It was all in mind speech.”