Fire Study
Page 6
I hustled to the fire and held my hands out. The prospect of traveling in such weather was unappealing.
“Does Leif know how to light fires?” I asked Irys.
“I think so. But no matter how skilled he is, wet wood won’t ignite.”
“Great,” I muttered. Steam floated from my soaked cloak. I draped the soggy garment around a chair then dragged it closer to the fire.
“When are you leaving?” Irys asked.
“Right away.” My stomach grumbled and I realized I had missed lunch. I sighed, knowing dinner would probably be a cold slice of cheese and mushy bread.
“I’m meeting Leif in the barn. Oh snake spit!” I remembered a couple of commitments.
“Irys, can you tell Gelsi and Dax I’ll start their training when I get back?”
“What training? Not magic—”
“No, no. Self-defense training.” I pointed to my bow. The five-foot-long staff of ebony wood was still threaded through its holder on my backpack. Drops of water beaded and gleamed on the weapon.
I pulled it free, feeling the solid weight of the staff in my hands. Underneath the ebony surface of the bow was a gold-colored wood. Pictures of me as a child, of the jungle, my family, and so on had been etched into the wood. Even Kiki’s loving eyes had been included in the story of my life. The bow moved smoothly in my hands. A gift from a master crafts-woman of the Sandseed Clan who had also raised Kiki.
“And Bain knows that you won’t be at his morning lesson,” Irys said. “But he said—”
“Don’t tell me he assigned homework,” I pleaded. Just thinking about lugging the heavy history tome made my back hurt.
Irys smiled. “He said that he would help you catch up on your studies when you return.”
Relieved, I picked up my pack, sorting the contents to see what other supplies we would need.
“Anything else?” Irys asked.
“No. What are you going to tell the Council?” I asked.
“That Roze has assigned you to learn about your magic from the Story Weavers. The first documented Soulfinder in Sitia was a Sandseed. Did you know that?”
“No.” I was surprised but shouldn’t have been. After all, what I knew about Soulfinders wouldn’t fill a page in one of Master Bain’s history books.
When I finished packing, I said goodbye to Irys and muscled my way through the wind to the dining hall. The kitchen staff always had a supply of travel rations on hand for the magicians. I grabbed enough food to last us a week.
As I drew closer to the stables, I could see a few brave horse heads poking out of their stalls. Kiki’s copper-and-white face was unmistakable even in the murky half-light.
She nickered in greeting and I opened my mind to her.
We go? she asked.
Yes. I’m sorry to take you out on such a horrible day, I said.
Not bad with Lavender Lady.
Lavender Lady was the name the horses had given me. They named the people around them just like we would name a pet. I had to smile, though, remembering Leif’s comment about my bathing in the pungent herb.
Lavender smell like… Kiki didn’t have the words to describe her emotions. A mental image of a bushy blue-gray lavender plant with its long purple cluster of flowers formed in Kiki’s mind. Feelings of contentment and security accompanied the image.
The main corridor of the stable echoed as if empty despite the pile of feed bags nearby. The thick supporting beams of the building stood like soldiers between the stalls and the end of the row disappeared into the gloom.
Leif? I asked Kiki.
Sad Man in tack room, Kiki said.
Thanks. I ambled toward the back of the barn, inhaling the familiar aroma of leather and saddle soap. The dry smell of straw scratched my throat and clung to the earthy scent of manure.
Tracker, too.
Who?
But before Kiki could answer I spotted Captain Marrok in the tack room with Leif. The sharp tip of Marrok’s sword was aimed at Leif’s chest.
3
“STAY BACK, YELENA,” Marrok ordered. “Answer me, Leif.”
Leif s face had paled, but his jaw was set in a stubborn line. His gaze met mine, questioning.
“What do you want, Marrok?” I asked.
The bruises on Marrok’s face had faded, but his right eye was still puffy and raw despite Healer Hayes’s efforts to repair his broken cheekbone.
“I want to find Cahil,” Marrok said.
“We all want to find him. Why are you threatening my brother?” I used a stern tone to remind Marrok that he now dealt with me. Having an infamous reputation had a few advantages.
Marrok looked at me. “He works with First Magician. She’s in charge of the search. If she has any clue as to where to find Cahil, she’ll send Leif.” He gestured to the bridles in Leif’s hands. “On a day like today, he’s not going to the market or out for a pleasure ride. But he won’t tell me where he’s going.”
It continued to amaze me just how fast news and gossip traveled through the Keep’s guards.
“Did you ask him before or after you pulled your sword?”
The tip of Marrok’s blade wavered. “Why does it matter?” he asked.
“Because most people are more willing to cooperate if they don’t have a weapon pointed at their chest.” Realizing that Marrok was a career soldier who did most of his talking with his sword, I switched tactics.
“Why didn’t you plan to follow Leif?” Marrok’s tracking abilities had impressed the horses so much that they had given him the name Tracker.
“Does Leif know how to light fires?” I asked Irys.
“I think so. But no matter how skilled he is, wet wood won’t ignite.”
“Great,” I muttered. Steam floated from my soaked cloak. I draped the soggy garment around a chair then dragged it closer to the fire.
“When are you leaving?” Irys asked.
“Right away.” My stomach grumbled and I realized I had missed lunch. I sighed, knowing dinner would probably be a cold slice of cheese and mushy bread.
“I’m meeting Leif in the barn. Oh snake spit!” I remembered a couple of commitments.
“Irys, can you tell Gelsi and Dax I’ll start their training when I get back?”
“What training? Not magic—”
“No, no. Self-defense training.” I pointed to my bow. The five-foot-long staff of ebony wood was still threaded through its holder on my backpack. Drops of water beaded and gleamed on the weapon.
I pulled it free, feeling the solid weight of the staff in my hands. Underneath the ebony surface of the bow was a gold-colored wood. Pictures of me as a child, of the jungle, my family, and so on had been etched into the wood. Even Kiki’s loving eyes had been included in the story of my life. The bow moved smoothly in my hands. A gift from a master crafts-woman of the Sandseed Clan who had also raised Kiki.
“And Bain knows that you won’t be at his morning lesson,” Irys said. “But he said—”
“Don’t tell me he assigned homework,” I pleaded. Just thinking about lugging the heavy history tome made my back hurt.
Irys smiled. “He said that he would help you catch up on your studies when you return.”
Relieved, I picked up my pack, sorting the contents to see what other supplies we would need.
“Anything else?” Irys asked.
“No. What are you going to tell the Council?” I asked.
“That Roze has assigned you to learn about your magic from the Story Weavers. The first documented Soulfinder in Sitia was a Sandseed. Did you know that?”
“No.” I was surprised but shouldn’t have been. After all, what I knew about Soulfinders wouldn’t fill a page in one of Master Bain’s history books.
When I finished packing, I said goodbye to Irys and muscled my way through the wind to the dining hall. The kitchen staff always had a supply of travel rations on hand for the magicians. I grabbed enough food to last us a week.
As I drew closer to the stables, I could see a few brave horse heads poking out of their stalls. Kiki’s copper-and-white face was unmistakable even in the murky half-light.
She nickered in greeting and I opened my mind to her.
We go? she asked.
Yes. I’m sorry to take you out on such a horrible day, I said.
Not bad with Lavender Lady.
Lavender Lady was the name the horses had given me. They named the people around them just like we would name a pet. I had to smile, though, remembering Leif’s comment about my bathing in the pungent herb.
Lavender smell like… Kiki didn’t have the words to describe her emotions. A mental image of a bushy blue-gray lavender plant with its long purple cluster of flowers formed in Kiki’s mind. Feelings of contentment and security accompanied the image.
The main corridor of the stable echoed as if empty despite the pile of feed bags nearby. The thick supporting beams of the building stood like soldiers between the stalls and the end of the row disappeared into the gloom.
Leif? I asked Kiki.
Sad Man in tack room, Kiki said.
Thanks. I ambled toward the back of the barn, inhaling the familiar aroma of leather and saddle soap. The dry smell of straw scratched my throat and clung to the earthy scent of manure.
Tracker, too.
Who?
But before Kiki could answer I spotted Captain Marrok in the tack room with Leif. The sharp tip of Marrok’s sword was aimed at Leif’s chest.
3
“STAY BACK, YELENA,” Marrok ordered. “Answer me, Leif.”
Leif s face had paled, but his jaw was set in a stubborn line. His gaze met mine, questioning.
“What do you want, Marrok?” I asked.
The bruises on Marrok’s face had faded, but his right eye was still puffy and raw despite Healer Hayes’s efforts to repair his broken cheekbone.
“I want to find Cahil,” Marrok said.
“We all want to find him. Why are you threatening my brother?” I used a stern tone to remind Marrok that he now dealt with me. Having an infamous reputation had a few advantages.
Marrok looked at me. “He works with First Magician. She’s in charge of the search. If she has any clue as to where to find Cahil, she’ll send Leif.” He gestured to the bridles in Leif’s hands. “On a day like today, he’s not going to the market or out for a pleasure ride. But he won’t tell me where he’s going.”
It continued to amaze me just how fast news and gossip traveled through the Keep’s guards.
“Did you ask him before or after you pulled your sword?”
The tip of Marrok’s blade wavered. “Why does it matter?” he asked.
“Because most people are more willing to cooperate if they don’t have a weapon pointed at their chest.” Realizing that Marrok was a career soldier who did most of his talking with his sword, I switched tactics.
“Why didn’t you plan to follow Leif?” Marrok’s tracking abilities had impressed the horses so much that they had given him the name Tracker.
