"You sound so certain." An instant of envy gripped her, that her sister could so casually, so quickly, know this man that well. But it was something Rethia'd always done, and likely always would.
Rethia shrugged, but then her expression turned distant as her attention went inward, her body standing idly in front of the workbench. When she came back out she frowned. "He said I was magic."
Kacey stiffened slightly, remembering the revelations of the day before, how Reandn could feel such things. Then she remembered the tea and relaxed. "He was full of bitter tea," she said. "It bothers his ears a little."
Without argument in her voice, Rethia said, "He seemed very certain."
Kacey saw only that it disturbed her sister to think it might be true—more than Kacey would have guessed it would. "It doesn't matter what he thinks," she said, a little more harshly than she'd meant to.
Rethia twisted to look back at him. "No, I suppose not. Are there biscuits this morning?"
"Yes," Kacey said, unflustered by the sudden change in subject. One grew used to it.
"Tell Father I've taken my breakfast to the clearing, please?"
Protest was generally useless. "I will, if you promise not to fall asleep until we rush up to see if anything's happened to you."
"Promise," Rethia said over her shoulder on her way out. Kacey had the feeling it would happen anyway.
She broke the herbs and bark in the pestle and returned to the cooking room for boiling water. She was fiddling with the bobbing herb bundle of the steeping tea when Reandn woke.
"Where's Rethia?" he said, groggy, pushing back against the pillow to sit. "When did you get here?"
"A little while ago. Rethia left to get her breakfast—she's got other things to do, you know, than hold your hand all day."
"I slept through it?"
His dismay surprised her. "You're going to sleep through a lot of things for the next week or so, so I'd get used to it."
He grimaced and said, "That's a habit that could get me killed."
"So, apparently, is revenge." She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips; he gave her an incredulous look, anger simmering close to the surface. Deliberately, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall.
"I think I'll go back to sleep," he groaned to no one in particular. " Maybe you'll be gone when I wake up."
The words I'm sorry somehow got stuck in her throat. He said nothing more, shifting his arm in search of ease. She suddenly remembered the tea, and quickly removed the herbs. It would be strong, all right. She wondered if it was strong enough to take away the sting of her words.
"Here," she offered, coming around the table, mug extended to him.
He cracked open an eye. "Graces, are you going to scald me with tea, now?"
"Drink it," she responded, exasperated, her sympathy melting away. It disappeared entirely as she recalled Rethia, on her way to the one place she unerringly fled to when upset. "Why'd you have to say that to her? Tell her she was magic?"
He drank half of it in one gulp in lieu of answering. For a moment he just waited, his face tight; she saw him subtly flexing and relaxing the arm. Then, just before she took a deep breath to repeat herself, he said, "I don't remember last night very clearly. If I told her she was magic it was because I believed it."
"Don't you ever think before you say something? Are you trying to hurt the woman who saved your life?"
"Goddess, Kacey!" He opened eyes that looked hunted. "Don't you ever let up? Anyone's touch would seem magic next to your bedside manner."
"I'm just looking out for her!" Kacey said defensively. "I don't want you telling her tales about magic again!"
That was when the grey eyes grew hard, and his expression cold. "Taking your orders is not the price I'll pay for this care." He downed the rest of the tea with a grimace, and placed the mug carefully on the little stool that still sat by his bed. Then he closed his eyes—closing her out.
Kacey watched him for a minute longer, wondering how the conversation had gotten so out of hand—but she knew. It had been all the way back at that kiss, back when she'd resolved he'd never know its effect on her.
No doubt she'd accomplished that goal already. With an inward sigh, she collected the mug and returned it to the kitchen.
When she came back to the sickroom, he was gone.
~~~~~
Reandn walked slowly across the short, grassy distance between the house and barn. Behind the barn, behind the goat pens and the cow that seemed to wander freely yet not away, there were woods. The same woods lined the narrow lane that led to the main road into Little Wisdom, and crowded up against the house.
If it weren't for the chickens, the peace would have been absolute. Even with the cackle and fuss of the birds, he'd been able to take the deep mental breath he needed. Now he took a deep breath of another kind, groping for the wall of the barn, holding himself upright until the world steadied. From the darkness in the back corner, Sky nickered a greeting.
"Nice to hear you've missed me," Reandn said, chancing another couple of steps. He didn't let his weakness bother him—this excursion would do him far less harm than another day of lying in that long, bed-filled room, an easy target for haunting memories.
Sky showed only as a dark blob of a bobbing head in the dim light of the barn; the details of his long black mane and fine-boned head gradually became evident as Reandn moved closer and his eyes grew accustomed to the light. He breathed softly through his teeth in greeting; Sky snorted once, withdrew his head, and then reappeared, having made the decision to be petted.
"Not much for being closed in, are you?" Reandn asked the horse, noting that the animal had plenty of hay and water, if not the sunshine and open space he preferred.
"Somewhat like you, it seems."
Reandn spun around, a mistake that sent him reeling into the stall door. "Farren."
"I don't know how you wiggled out from under Kacey's watchful eye," Farren said, silhouetted in the sunshine outside the barn. "I doubt it will be considered wise."
"Is that supposed to matter?"
After a pause, Farren said, "Only one thing matters to you, I think—getting to the one that hurt you."
"He's hurt plenty of other people, too," Reandn said. "He's got to be stopped." His thumb brushed against smooth gold on his little finger.
"Fine. I agree. I always have. I don't understand why you aren't willing to let me help."
Reandn sighed. "He's the one with magic, Farren. Not you." That much, he did, finally, believe. "I don't see how you can do anything but make me more obvious."
The light-lined shoulder rose and fell. "I know the ways of magic. And I know Solace." A brief silence fell, until he added, his crisp words falling quietly between them, "Or maybe I'm just as selfish as you. You want revenge, and cloak it in the welfare of others. I want what I had, Reandn. Maybe just a taste, maybe not even that much. But I can't not try."
"Then I was right all along. Just a wizard who wants his magic back. What'll make you any different than the man who holds it now?" Reandn asked bitterly, wishing that he could know—know beyond doubt—that he could trust this man.
Another silence from Farren, who took the time to fully enter the barn. When he spoke again his delivery was remote, unlike his nearly intimate confession of his need for magic. "You were still a youth when we lost the magic. I'll imagine it was never even strong enough to bother your allergy."
Reandn pushed Sky's questing nose away from where it nipped at his bare shoulder, and leaned more heavily against the stall framing. "No," he said, not bothering to hide the fatigue in his voice. "Not much."
"Do you really think it was a bunch of wizards running around, pointing their fingers at people and causing trouble?"
"It wouldn't surprise me."
"Let me see," Farren said. "From what I know of the Wolves, I'd say they can move quickly and quietly, track down prey, and fight when they find it. I guess that means you spend a lot of
time attacking people and taking what you want."
Reandn scowled. "You know better than that."
"Then because a man or woman has aptitude and training doesn't mean they have to misuse their abilities? That, in fact, like you and your Pack, some might choose to help others with their skills?"
Reandn snorted, and shook his head. "You're good, Farren. You are good. But anyone with an aptitude for those things can train to Wolf skills. How many wizards do you know?"
"You'd be surprised." Farren raised one silvered eyebrow at Reandn. "I live as a tailor now. Don't you suppose there are others out there, tanning and grinding meal and farming? Don't you suppose that even some of your Wolves would be capable of harnessing magic?"
Reandn just stared at him, flabbergasted. It could be that common? All the more reason to make sure no one else figured out how to use it again.
"What I'm trying to tell you," Farren continued, blithely unaware of Reandn's reaction in the gloom of the building, "is that while very few people can attain the level of translocation, there are enough solidly skilled people of conscience to police the use of magic. If we can affect magic's return, Reandn, the world isn't going to erupt into chaos."
"I'm sorry, Farren," Reandn said—and maybe he was, just a little. "You may think you can follow me to this wizard and figure out his magic, but it'll be too late. When I find him, he's dead. Him and his magic with him."
Farren stood for a moment, the set of his jaw revealed in the outline of short-cropped silvery beard, and then he turned and left, his movement just as stiff. Sky gave his stall door an irritable kick, and Reandn thought about being alone, about Rethia upset and Kacey angry, and the temporary, tentative association with the old wizard possibly shattered.
With a deep sigh he straightened against the support of the stall, tucking his thumb in his belt to support his pain-shot arm. He ran the other hand across his eyes, rubbing hard—understanding that things would change again after this; he might not even be welcome to heal here.
He'd been on his own before, and he could do it again. But somehow those days seemed long ago, and not half as hard to live with.
He had only a moment for his thoughts before another silhouette blocked the light of the entrance. This one didn't hesitate, but came right in, resolving into the shape and features of Rethia.
"Come with me?" she asked.
"Where?" he asked, taken off stride by her straightforwardness, looking for the turmoil Kacey had said he'd caused.
"To my meadow. It's not too far." She took his hand and made as if to lead him out of the barn, although he didn't move.
Reandn couldn't help his snort of amusement. "And just how far do you think I'll get?" But even as he spoke, he became aware of a welcome warmth taking the wobble out of his legs and some of the wooziness from his head.
"You'll be all right," she said blithely.
He shook his head—I doubt that—and followed the tug on his hand. "I'm turning back if it's too far."
"It won't be," she reassured him, and, apparently certain he would follow, released his hand. She took him into the woods behind the barn, where they struck a clear, oft-used trail. She walked no faster than was comfortable for him, and he was surprised at how much of the rolling ground they covered.
They were still on the trail when Reandn pulled up short, alarmed. Though his ears were relatively unaffected, he could still feel it. A tingling vibration flowed along his limbs, resonating uncomfortably in his wounded arm. Rethia stopped too, came back and took his hand again.
"No," he said. "I'm not going any closer." It wasn't the same feeling of Ronsin's magic, but it was here nonetheless.
Still clasping his hand, she moved closer to study him. "Do you feel something?"
"You already know, don't you?" He couldn't quite bring himself to tear his hand away, for there was no malice in her face, just a hint of distress—as though she was torn between dread and hope.
She looked away, or, more than that, her gaze moved inward. "I wondered," she said, and then hesitated, tugging his hand slightly. "Will you—"
"No," he said, more firmly than he'd intended, as he reclaimed his fingers and stepped back from her. Her genuine dismay was an argument he found hard to deny, and that made it as threatening as the magic. Without another word, he turned and left her, walking an unsteady but determined stride back the way they'd come.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 16
Reandn stumbled back down the path, fighting the urge to turn away from Teayo's home—away from the temptation of trusting those who welcomed magic. But by the time he reached the barn, he could think of nothing but the bed he'd occupied for two days already.
Just outside the sickroom door he stopped, drew a few deep breaths, and steadied himself. He entered the house more deliberately, but no less intent on the bed; he barely registered the small form in the second bed.
Kacey stared at him, her brows beetled together, her lips drawn thin in an expression that only emphasized her round jaw. But that silent response remained her sole comment as he sat heavily on the bed, toeing off his boots and bringing his legs, one by one, to stretch out before him. She stuck her hands in her deep, baggy trouser pockets and merely stared.
Determined not to start trouble, he said evenly, "I had to check my horse."
"Of course you did," she said, but the sarcasm didn't quite ring true through a note of worry; she didn't meet his eyes at first.
But then, her expression clearing, she caught his attention and nodded at the bed beyond him. He suddenly realized he had seen someone in that bed, a young someone. Looking small—and like he wished he was smaller—lay a miserable huddle of boy with one leg splinted awkwardly out in front of him.
"This is Braden," Kacey said, her voice overtly cheerful. Underneath he still heard the edge of irritation that was reserved for him. "He's just discovered why his father said to stay away from their stallion."
"I want to go home," the boy said, an almost inaudible plea. Tears gathered and hung, ready to spill over.
Reandn sucked ina breath, instantly reminded of Kavan—although there had been no pleas for home when Kavan had arrived, for there had no longer been a home to return to. There had been nothing but dark, miserable eyes set in a frightened face, and then Adela, quickly gathering the boy up.
Reandn's first impulse was to turn from the memories—and to turn from the boy as well. But...he couldn't quite...
"I want to go home," the boy repeated. Sobs were definitely imminent.
"And leave me without a roommate?" Reandn widened his eyes in dramatic dismay. "I was lonely."
"I want my mam," Braden insisted, growing bolder.
Kacey shook her head. "It's breeding season; your mam and da are awfully busy now. Here, we can get you water when you're thirsty, and tell you stories at bedtime. You're having a real adventure."
Not to be mollified, the child shook his head. The waiting tears spilled over and ran down his face, and his voice trembled. "I don't wanna have an adventure."
"Then you shouldn't have gone into that horse's stall," Kacey said, firmly but not without sympathy. "But you did, and here you are. It won't be so bad, Braden—I know your favorite foods, and it's not often you get sweet potato and gingerbread on the same day, is it?"
A silent shake of his head admitted the truth of that, but his face said it didn't make any difference.
"Well," Kacey said with a sigh, "you won't get it if I don't make it. If Rethia were here—" she shot a covert glance at Reandn and finished, instead, "You call me if you need anything, Braden. I think you'll find you're a little sleepy, though."
Braden's head followed her as she walked around the beds and out of the room.
"I'm not sleepy," came his stubborn little voice after Kacey was gone. "My leg hurts. Why should I be sleepy?"
"Because it's convenient," Reandn said dryly.
The boy's response was a startled look; he hadn't expected an answer. Nor, at his
age, which looked to be around six, could he comprehend the one he had gotten. "What happened to you?"
"I—" Reandn started, then hesitated. "I got bitten by a horse," he said, managing to look embarrassed.
"Me, too!" the boy said, delighted at the common bond. "I mean, it was a horse that done this."
Reandn cleared his throat and said, "It was my own fault. I knew the horse was dangerous, but I wanted to see it."
"Yeah," the boy commiserated. "And then they all made you feel really stupid, I'll bet. Like you done it on purpose."
"Well," Reandn said thoughtfully, crossing one ankle over the other, "the worst part is, they were right. I should have known better. But it would have been nice if everyone hadn't said so."
Sagely, the boy nodded. "And you got left here, just like me. Like nobody cares...." His face began to crumple again.
Reandn took a deep breath. "I was lonely at first—but Kacey helped me when my arm hurt, so now I'm glad I'm here."
"But," the boy said moistly, swallowing hard, "didn't... didn't your brothers get scared at night, with so much room in the bed?"
Reandn couldn't help his smile. "Maybe they did," he said carefully. "Tonight, if you think your brothers are lonely, we can talk about it. You think that might help keep you from worrying?"
Braden sniffled. "Dunno," he said, but the tears had stopped.
Reandn couldn't help the yawn that slipped out.
"Maybe she was talking to you," the boy suggested. "You look tired. I'm not."
"Maybe to both of us," Reandn replied, easing his arm into a more comfortable position. "I'll bet your leg doesn't hurt as much now, does it?"
Braden shook his head, and fingered the sheet beneath him.
"Good." Reandn brought a knee up to steady himself against the headboard. "You won't mind if I take a nap, then?"
Another head-shake. Reandn closed his eyes, wedged comfortably into an upright position. Several minutes later he opened them again, and found, not unsurprisingly, that the boy had already fallen asleep—Kacey's potions were hard to fight. He closed his eyes again, satisfied. No need for everyone here to feel alone.
Touched By Magic (The King's Wolf Saga) Page 20