“Right.” Daeryn raked a hand through his hair, rumpling the strands so Annmar wanted to straighten them again. “Riv? Annmar doesn’t want us to tell anyone about the healing. We can keep that quiet, can’t we?”
Rivley considered him. “Well, we’ve covered your arms, but best re-bandage the shoulder. Your foot will take longer than the cuts would have, so staying abed will hide your sudden recovery. If you can,” he added with a roll of his eyes.
“Well, that’s to be expected.” Daeryn shot him a nasty look. “That tear really hurts. I can’t walk, which means I’ll be out of work for a week or so.”
“Perish the thought the beast would take a break,” Rivley intoned.
“But your cuts have disappeared, and last night they looked awful,” Annmar said. “Everyone saw.”
“Blood,” Daeryn said. “Most of it was blood. Didn’t look half so bad after Mr. White cleaned and stitched them.”
“True.” Rivley frowned in thought. “And late this afternoon before the ropens arrived, you pointed out to Jac how using Miriam’s salve had helped.”
“Jac will hardly have paid attention.” Daeryn rubbed his forehead. “She’s tough that way, expecting everyone to get on with it, cuts or no. The salve explanation works somewhat for Jac and the others from this afternoon, but not Miriam. She can’t get too close a look. Has she been back?”
Rivley shook his head.
“Not while I was here,” Annmar said. “Mary Clare sat with you after I did.”
“Did she say anything about how I looked?” Daeryn asked.
Rivley shrugged. “Not to me.”
So the healing had started by afternoon, but Annmar couldn’t be sure how long it had taken.
“But you can handle Mary Clare,” Daeryn said to Rivley.
The words were surprisingly assured. Annmar darted her gaze to Rivley. So there was something between them.
But Rivley didn’t show a twitch of expression. “I will pluck out what she remembers. We could attribute your fast healing to our Black Mountains origins. They already think us bizarre, even by Basin standards.”
“Brilliant,” he said. “It is my first injury here.”
Annmar put up a hand. “Are things so different where you’re from that this works?”
Daeryn smiled. “Rockbridge is remote. We’re about the only transplants up here.”
And the bizarre part? She didn’t want to pry. Yet.
“But that wouldn’t explain one part of Daeryn healing and not another.” Rivley turned to her. “Without that tendon healed, he can’t walk, let alone run, and that’s what he wants to do.”
Perfect. They had a way to explain this, so her experiment would be safe. She pivoted to Daeryn. “Could I see the places that healed?”
Tossing Rivley a grin, Daeryn peeled off his shirt faster than she could give him the privacy to do so. Her face heated as it had earlier at the sight of his bare chest. He traced his fingers over various places. “My chest took scratches, but the vermin got their teeth into my arms. One wouldn’t let go of my shoulder.”
He twisted his back to her. Nothing remained of the horrible bleeding gashes from last night.
“How did it feel while it healed?”
He shrugged. “I was asleep.”
She blew out a breath of disappointment. “This doesn’t tell me anything about how I did it.” They were looking at her oddly, so she admitted, “I’ve never done this before.”
“Never?” they asked in unison.
She didn’t blame them, but she had no assurance the Yates’ cat wasn’t just feeling frisky, and mentioning it could be insulting to an animacambire. “It was an accident. I don’t know what would happen if I drew someone with an injury. Or drew the figure wrong. I won’t do either,” she added quickly.
Daeryn pulled on his shirt and lay back again, his gaze on Rivley.
He said they shared everything. That feeling of being an Outsider to their Basin ways fell over her. She should have gone to Mary Clare for advice on how to approach these fellows.
After a moment, Rivley said, “How Knacks work is a mystery. People just do them.”
“Everyone at Wellspring will move on from their surprise in a day,” Daeryn added.
“Wait a second.” Annmar rose to her feet. “You agreed to keep the healing quiet.”
Daeryn frowned. “But if I’m running around hunting, the others are bound to have questions. I’ll need to tell them something.”
She shook her head. “I’m already an oddity here. I don’t want anyone to know what I’m attempting until I have figured out how to do it properly.”
“But before you hadn’t offered to—you are offering to heal my foot, right?”
Drawing food wouldn’t uncover anything about the healing Knack. She had to try this. “I’m told using my Knack again and again will make it stronger. Experimenting, like inventors do, to get the right method. You said you’d choose a painless healing, so I thought you might consider letting me try to heal your foot. I’d like to help, however if I do this, it must be kept a secret until I am sure I know what I’m doing.”
Daeryn threw another of those speaking glances to Rivley. The leaner fellow shrugged. Daeryn scratched at a patch of smooth brown skin near his temple, a spot scored by cuts only this morning. Finally he gave a nod. “Then we won’t reveal it. The healing is your secret until you say so.”
“Thank you.” She took her seat again. “Repeating the experiment is the only way I can think of to learn more about my Knack before I return to Derby.”
* * *
Daeryn didn’t dare meet Rivley’s gaze, and he knew full well it was on him, with a message to take note of Annmar’s words.
Before I return to Derby.
His gaze stayed fixed on Annmar. Annmar, who sat primly in her nice skirt and blouse, her hair swept up in pins, all properness in her look, her manners, her request.
Fine, she had plans. He did, too. Plans change, said a voice in his head. Yours did. He shook away the voice. He couldn’t count on that. He couldn’t even count on another healing.
A new Knack-bearer couldn’t expect to succeed every time. Already Annmar had said try. If she didn’t believe in her Knack, then for sure it wouldn’t work like it had when she’d just innocently drawn. He wanted to run again—soon. What could he say to convince her? One thing he knew about Basin talents: You didn’t think about it. You just did it.
Daeryn leaned toward her. “It’ll work again. You’ve never done it before because you’ve never been to the Basin before.”
Her blue-eyed gaze came back to him, and her nervous scent faded. “Well, the images do come stronger than when I was in Derby.”
Excellent. “Ah, so you did have a Knack, some”—he groped for what a city girl might call it—“illusions, er, sight before.”
She nodded.
“Then, you’ve eaten our food before,” he said. Rockbridge lore indicated Basin-grown food gifted Basin-born with Knacks. That and bloodlines.
“Some. Mother insisted it was the best.”
“Here, you’re eating only our food,” Rivley chirped a bit too brightly.
Come on, girl. Figure it out for yourself. It’d set in her gut much stronger if she said it. “Only our food, fresh…”
“Yeeess,” she said slowly. “Eating here has triggered stronger sights. Of a sort. If it works, how would you explain your foot’s sudden recovery?”
“She has a point, Dae. You should be down at least a few days.”
That meant he had to leave Jac in charge of the ropens. It’d be that much harder to get back his position. And if Miz Gere saw how well the wolf… But, hell. Annmar was so sweet, with her concern that she’d overstepped and her apology. She wanted to help. The Knack was new, and she needed a chance to prove herself. He would protect her secret. “I’ll do what you think best until you feel comfortable.”
A smile crossed her lips. “Could I, er, see your feet?”
Daeryn
flipped the covers back to show his feet, one bandaged. She rose and paced forward as he unwrapped the linen.
“You should eat again,” he said. “It would strengthen your gift, right?”
She gave the barest of nods, but didn’t raise her gaze from studying his toes. Her belief had kicked in, now to set it with some reassuring, like a kit. Someone to run by her side. Tell her things would be all right. It couldn’t come from him, not under Miz Gere’s restriction. So who?
Rivley tapped his fingers on the doorframe, where he’d moved to watch. The sound was barely perceptible, but Daeryn tore his gaze from Annmar. Rivley raised a brow. He had an idea. Daeryn nodded.
Rivley whirled to the door and opened it. “Let’s go to the kitchen, girl. Mary Clare is still cleaning up. She’ll gather you a bite to eat before drawing.”
Mary Clare? Daeryn started to frown, but Annmar had stepped to the door.
“I didn’t know she’d be here still,” she said in a lighter tone.
“Perhaps you’d like to take a tray to your room. Be alone with the whole idea.” Rivley barreled on. “This isn’t something we have to hurry. Dae will be fine taking a break for a few days.”
What? Oh, Annmar looked relieved. “He’s right. No rush. In fact, no obligation. I appreciate what you’ve done for me thus far, but if it’s not possible for more to happen”—he shrugged—“so be it. Good night, Annmar.”
“I’ll do my best.” She waved the sketchbook at him and left the room.
Before Rivley could follow, Daeryn called, “Could I trouble you a sec, Riv?”
Rivley rolled his eyes, but closed the door, leaning against it.
“Your suggestion of food was great, but you are not telling Mary Clare about this.” Daeryn gestured to his foot. “She’ll turn Annmar against me somehow.”
Rivley’s hair spiked up. “Cut the crap about MC. Just take my word that no matter how much the two of you fight, she’ll be good for the girl.”
“The girl,” Daeryn growled back at him. “Maybe you ought to learn Annmar’s name. I plan to know it very well.”
Rivley hopped forward and jabbed a finger at him. “No, you shouldn’t. Not with Mistress Gere warning you off. You did that just right, nothing for her to challenge.” He shook his head. “After you see this pest problem gone, it’s high time we move on to our next responsibility, resolving this damned gildan. Neither of us is free to take a mate—a real mate—until we do that.” Rivley ripped his shirt from his trousers and pushed down his waistband, exposing the silver spiral skewered around his navel. A red garnet sat at its center. “Three piercings, three lessons to learn, which neither of us remembers.”
“Do so. ‘Honestly work together to restore yourselves and your pack.’ Are we working together? No.”
Rivley let his shirt drop and clenched his fists. “I. Am,” he said harshly. “And if you remembered that one, why aren’t you working on it? What are the other two?”
Under his stare, Daeryn shrugged. “Do you remember? The Determination Trial bound you as equally as me.”
“‘Leaders must let leaders lead.’ And…” Rivley lost a little of his steam. “Something about community foundation.”
Daeryn closed his eyes. This was it, his chance to start making this right with Riv. He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on him. “‘Leaders must let leaders lead. Honestly work together to restore yourselves and your pack. Keep your community as your foundation. Above all, stay true to the Path of the Creator.’”
Rivley stared back, his fists tightening and releasing. “You remember all of them.”
With his note of surprise mixed in, it wasn’t exactly an accusation, but Daeryn nodded, afraid to answer.
Finally, Rivley’s hands uncurled and stayed that way. “Have you figured out what they mean for us to do?”
“Leaders leading. That refers to the Elders letting us make our own decisions?”
“Or mistakes.” Rivley threw a dismissive wave. “I don’t think it’s clear until we understand each line. Put your mind to that, not thinking about a city girl who is unlikely to ever accept a ’cambire as a mate, let alone a pack.”
“Miz Gere likes her drawings. Annmar could be here months. Longer, with encouragement.”
“She plans to leave.” Rivley tucked in his shirt and adjusted his braces. “Why should she stay if she doesn’t trust her Knack?”
Daeryn leaned forward. “That’s why she needs me.” The words rang with the certainty he felt in his heart.
Rivley closed his eyes. “You said this wasn’t the situation for pack. Using that voice—your pack voice—will not get me to do what you want.”
“Don’t tell me no,” Daeryn said. “We’ll make a plan—”
“No.” Eyes flashing open, Rivley backed a step. He flattened the feathers prickling up in his hair and spun to the door. “I’ll take care of seeing you healed, but that’s it.”
chapter twenty
Freshly bathed and settled into the wingback chair, Annmar sipped her steaming tea. Bits of herb eddied in the pale liquid, their mossy, ocher and even pink flecks hitting her tongue with sweet, tang and mint. Refreshing, delicious…stalling.
Over the brim of the cup, she surveyed the tray Mary Clare had put together with Rivley helping at her elbow. More likely whispering Annmar’s secrets, because when the two left her at the base of her stairs, Mary Clare completed her good-bye with, “Don’t worry so. You’ll do just fine.”
Clearly she meant Daeryn’s drawing. Which wouldn’t take long, if Annmar just got started. The drawing was merely one—one of dozens she created on an average day. Yet the importance of this one had her stomach doing somersaults.
Several jars of the special jams glinted under her gas lamp. Annmar heaved a sigh and reached for the bread plate, but decided to refresh her tea first. In place of a teapot, they’d given her a hot water crock, complete with a compact machine that kept the crock heated. Mary Clare had laughingly told her their mechanic dreamed it up after many trips to the kitchen to reheat his forgotten tea. A motor below the hot brass surface puttered softly, with no oily smell. Rivley confirmed it had oil lubrication, though the engine ran more like a clock. That was clear, just as it’d been on the spider-like machines at the base of her stairway.
She’d sketch it first. Not a delay, but a warm-up. Gears, rods and pistons paralleled the hard lines of bones, tendons and muscles, after all. Annmar poured more hot water, opened her sketchbook and started drawing. Slender screws churned from openings in the base, whirling fine-toothed gears that pumped other rods around the delicate railings holding the urn in place.
A few more pencil strokes filled in a tiny swinging weight, completing the equivalent of a technical drawing. It wasn’t as if she had the skill to build one herself, but the visible components were displayed correctly. Each piece shone, placed precisely for aesthetics as well as function, as if the inventor acted more as an artist than mechanic. How different this exquisite device was from Mr. Shearing’s spewing engines.
Thoughts of him still made Annmar’s stomach lurch. She dropped her pencil on the table and picked up her cup. A test sip told her the tea had cooled, so she took a long draught. The fragrant liquid touched and soothed nerves as it spread through her.
She closed her eyes and brought up the image of Daeryn, his muscular calves and sturdy feet. Yes, she could make the drawing, but could she heal him?
Rivley seemed sure she could. So did Mary Clare. The carefree Daeryn had said, No obligation. This wasn’t a life-threatening injury… Still she wanted to help.
In seconds, Annmar had a jam jar open and bread topped by a mound of the amber gel containing hunks of peach. Pat’s peaches. Before she thought any more about it, Annmar bit into the sweet compote.
The jam launched her into a riot of flavor, summer sun, light breezes and fragrant flowers. She chewed, the sugar awakening her palate. Annmar took another bite, and another, her dream of summer growing. My, the wonder of it all. She cra
cked an eyelid and eyed the second slice of bread.
No. Daeryn’s foot hurt. She would do this.
Annmar wiped her fingers on the napkin and picked up her pencil. On a fresh page, she made a rough outline of a figure. A figure running, what Daeryn needed to be able to do. The longer strands of his dark hair would be blowing back…no, whipping around his face as he turned to smile at her.
Ah, no…why do I think he would do that?
That last smile he’d given her…it was hopeful, so she let her flying hand create the smile, half-blocked by dashes of hair across his cheek. The pencil proceeded down his body, filling it out. She was as curious about her ability to do this as she was about Daeryn himself. How old was he? Why did he choose to work at night? And why here? He didn’t appear to have a sweetheart, despite the close playfulness she’d seen with one of those dark-haired girls.
Thoughts of them made Annmar’s pencil hesitate. They fit into this rough country life so much better than she did.
Annmar squeezed her eyes tightly shut and took a long breath. Summer fluttered by—the heat of the sun, the smells of the earth, the crackling of the stiff peach leaves trembling against each other in the wind, and Pat with hair flowing over her shoulders and her arms reaching. The tree nymph beckoned her, a mournful smile on her normally peaceful face.
Annmar wiped at her eyes. She would not let Jac be right. She would last this trial, long enough to get her answers about her Knack. And make friends, if not something more with Daeryn. Mary Clare was proof that not everyone found her too different to relate to. She refocused her gaze on the page.
The lines had taken on a bit of a blue tint in the gaslight. She hadn’t noticed that happening before. She pushed the distraction aside. Her pencil tip traced the edge of Daeryn’s right foot, darkening the sole of his lifting heel as he ran.
* * *
The Unraveling, Volume One of The Luminated Threads: A Steampunk Fantasy Romance Page 16