Chapter Ten
Pain! Ran-Del could feel his head pounding. He blinked and opened his eyes. In the dimness he recognized the woven hangings of his great-grandfather’s great room. He swallowed with effort; his mouth was so dry, he felt as if he had gone a week without water. He groaned, then sat up, feeling his head whirl, as if his senses had turned against him. Movement at the door caught his eye.
His grandfather came into the room. “I thought you were awake.” Isayah held up a hand to forestall Ran-Del from rising. “How do you feel?”
Ran-Del cringed at the pain that movement brought him. “My head hurts.”
Isayah crouched down beside him and touched his shoulder gently. Ran-Del felt his concern.
“Your grandmother’s making some quince tea. That and time will take care of the headache. How do you feel otherwise?”
Ran-Del didn’t want to appear weak. “All right except that I’m thirsty. Does medicine smoke always give you a headache?”
“If you breathe in that much of it, it does,” Isayah said, sympathy in his tone. “Father’s lying down right now, and Doan, too.”
“How long was I out?” Ran-Del asked, starting to rise and wobbling as his balance failed him.
“Not too long.” Isayah steadied him with one hand. “This wasn’t a lengthy seeing. It’s barely afternoon.”
Ran-Del stifled a groan as he straightened up. His muscles had stiffened.
“I’m sorry I had to hold you down like that,” Isayah said. “Father was very specific that he wanted you in a receptive state, and you were fighting it. Some people do, the first time.”
Ran-Del could easily believe both statements. He could still recall the sense of losing himself. “But why did he want me here? And what did he see?”
Isayah shrugged. “I don’t know, Ran-Del. I wish I did. Father sent me away soon after he started.”
Ran-Del glanced around the room remembering the events of the morning. “Where’s Francesca?”
His grandfather’s mouth curved in a subtle smile. “She’s in our quarters, plaguing your grandmother with questions about life in the forest—unless Mina has lost patience with her and ordered her out. I don’t think she has, though, because she wants Francesca to stay inside.”
His grandmother had apparently maintained her patience. Ran-Del found her in her own great room pouring quince tea. Francesca Hayden sat on the other side of the table, looking both bored and impatient.
“There you are,” Mina said briskly. “Here, this will make you feel better.”
She handed Ran-Del a mug filled with murky liquid. In spite of his thirst, Ran-Del sipped it slowly. Quince tea, made from the yellow fruit of a small, prickly tree, was renowned as a soothing analgesic but it had a terrible taste. Ran-Del had hated being forced to drink it when he was young.
Isayah laughed at his reluctance. “Fortunately, not everything that’s good for you tastes as bad as quince tea.”
“I’ll make regular tea later,” Mina said. “You drink that down, Ran-Del. You look like you’ve been mauled by a timber cat.”
“Your grandmother is right,” Francesca said, leaning forward on her elbows to survey him critically. “Considering you hardly moved, you look worn out. What was it like, being part of a seeing?”
“For me, it was like being asleep,” Ran-Del said. “Were you there the whole time?”
“Most of it,” Francesca said, her chin resting on one elbow. “Not that much happened. After you keeled over the shaman got a death grip on your arm and held it for quite a while. He barely spoke for at least two hours—he just sat there, muttering under his breath and staring off into space. I had almost fallen asleep when the woman let out a sort of shriek, and that brought me wide awake.”
Ran-Del was nonplused. “Did Doan scream? I don’t remember that at all.”
“I’m not surprised,” Isayah said. “I gave you a strong dose of medicine smoke, and I think Father was controlling you. He must have wanted you to stay unconscious.”
“Well, she did scream,” Francesca said, with great firmness. “It was sudden but brief. Next, she mumbled for a bit, and then she and the old man looked like they went to sleep sitting up. I gave up after that; there didn’t seem to be anything else to it.”
“Drink your tea,” Mina ordered Ran-Del, ignoring Francesca. “You should have another cup, at least.”
Ran-Del drained his mug reluctantly and his grandmother filled it again.
Francesca smiled when Ran-Del made a face. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Taste it.” Ran-Del pushed his cup across the table at her. As she reached to take it, their hands touched for a second, reminding Ran-Del of the incident early in the morning when she had stroked the scars on his arm.
Ran-Del felt a rush of desire and knew that both his grandparents would sense it. He managed not to let anything show on his face, and Francesca seemed oblivious to the moment.
She took a sip of quince tea and made a tortured face. “Agh, I see what you mean. I was going to ask for tea, but I think I’ll wait.”
She passed the cup back again. Ran-Del was careful not to let her hand touch his.
Francesca held back a yawn. “Would it be all right if I took a nap? I really didn’t sleep well last night.”
Isayah assured her that it wasn’t bad manners for a guest to sleep in the daytime, and Francesca went off to lay down in the room they had assigned to her use.
Ran-Del hunched his shoulders, knowing that one of his grandparents would make a comment. It had been worse when he was younger, but he still found it difficult if he happened to be around his grandparents when his thoughts turned to women.
Isayah put a hand firmly on Ran-Del’s shoulder. “It’s time to forget about Bettine and find a wife.”
Ran-Del didn’t answer, but he knew his grandfather could sense his resistance.
“I’m quite serious,” Isayah said sternly. “I’ll give you some time to make a choice; if you don’t, then I’ll have to make it for you.”
Ran-Del sucked in his breath.
Isayah smiled at his dismay. “Cheer up, Ran-Del. It’s hardly a death sentence.”
Ran-Del wasn’t foolish enough to argue, but he still didn’t answer his grandfather.
“Go and lie down yourself,” Mina said. “You’re tired, too.”
“Yes, Grandmother,” Ran-Del said, glad of a chance to get away.
Ran-Del pondered, as he lay on his back and stared at the open ceiling flaps, how much time his grandfather would allow him to find a bride. There was no one in his village he wanted, except Bettine. He could ask his grandfather to send him traveling to the other villages of Falling Water People, or even to his mother’s clan. He would wait until Francesca’s father took her away to make the request.
Not even Mina would be thinking of his marriage while the city dweller who had kidnapped him was near.
The Sixth Discipline Page 35