Читать книгу Marked for Magic - Daisy Banks - Страница 10

The dishes done, Nin picked up the broom to sweep the grimy cinders from the hearth. He must be in his workshop by now. She let go of the anger she’d held in check since his glance swept over her, and with him safe out of the way, she scoured hard at the hearthstones.

Was she such a trouble? Did he not know she was a woman grown?

The broom slowed as her temper cooled. She wished he wouldn’t frown so much.

Her heart beat swift when she stood beside him. No matter how gruff he seemed, she didn’t think him cruel. He’d not beaten her like he threatened over the mushrooms. She didn’t think he ever would. When she woke this morning, she’d made a decision. She wanted to stay with him.

What was it about his eyes that made her believe all his words were true? Why did she want him to be pleased so she could see his smile?

She crossed her hands over the handle, rested her chin on the top, and leaned against the broom as the dust motes sailed in the light. He’d said Agnes lied. She so wanted to believe him, to trust his words. The mark showed she should be his. That was part of what Agnes told her. Thankfully, the brutal way he’d make her his hadn’t come to pass yet, and she didn’t think it would. Not in the way Agnes had said.

He’d never force anyone in that way.

Sudden warmth crept over her face. His hands were smooth and his fingers skilful. She’d like him to… Though no one could see her hot cheeks, she closed her eyes for shame. Appalled the idea had been hers, she shook the thought away, opened her eyes, and poked at a cobweb.

Should she feel this way?

His smile, when it came, touched her heart, but he didn’t smile half as much as she’d like.

She’d believed the very worst of what Agnes told. Yet it seemed not even the behavior of a man with a woman, the things she had whispered about with Alicia when no one could hear them, were in his thoughts.

Was it because she was ugly? Maybe he didn’t like her at all. Would she live her whole life this way?

Colors glowed in the hearthstones once she swept away the dusty ash. Green streaks gleamed like those in his eyes.

Why did his eyes return to her mind so often?

She glanced at the flagstones of the rest of the kitchen. They all needed a good scrub, a long job that would probably take most of the morning. Should she begin them now or go to wash the brown dress? She didn’t want to be out of the room when he came down, but needed to go outside. No sound came from above so she hurried out to race over the rise to the stream.

The grubby fabric sank beneath the surface of the rippling water. She hoisted the tunic she wore up to her knees to walk on the cloth where it settled on the streambed. Her toes squeezed out the dirt, mud, and the stink of fear. The stream ran clear. Delicious cool water swirled around her calves. Pebbles on the bed rolled as she rubbed her feet over her old dress.

She looked up at the sound of a horse. Across the stream, at the top of the rise, a fair young man curbed a white stallion.

“Girl!”

She frowned. Would she be called “girl” by all for the rest of her life? “What do you want?”

“Is the Mage home?”

“He’s up at the tower. What do you want?”

“That, little blossom, is his business, not yours.” He turned the horse in an elegant circle so she could get a good look at him before he rode on. He was handsome, with ripples of gilded fair hair, and she’d bet a bead, if she had one, he knew it.

She hauled the sodden bundle from the stream and wrung it out as best she could. A convenient branch gave a place to hang the sopping dress to drip-dry in the sun. Wiping at the damp patches on the tunic, she hurried back up over the rise.

The pale horse sped past, heading away from the tower now, kicking up clods of earth that forced her to jump into the heads of cow parsley.

“Sorry, little blossom, take more care,” the fair youth called back.

She glared as the horse cantered away. Her mood not improved by the messenger, she strode back to the tower.

The Mage waited with a dark wooden stave in his hand. She quickened her steps. He leaned against the wall surrounding the well. A large, wide-brimmed, straw hat shaded his head. He also held something she recognized instantly. The fabric gleamed red, yellow, and orange, with purple and blue splashes shimmering in the sun.

“Oh, there you are. Good.” He held out the long, fringed scarf. “This is for you.”

He gave her a smile, and her heart galloped faster than the white horse. “Thank you,” she whispered. The linen slid through her fingers like the softest down, the tiny little shells sewn onto it chinked. “You make these, don’t you?”

“Yes, one of the goods I make to trade. The village women seem to like them.”

“I know it.” Emulating the way one or two of the women wore them, she wrapped the soft fabric around her head and stroked the long tail of fringed cloth as it hung over her shoulder. All the women in the village prized the scarves he made, the most colorful garment they could possess. No one knew how to dye things in the way he did. She never imagined she would have one of his scarves for her own.

“Come on, we are going for a walk.”

She hurried to catch up with his long-legged stride. “Where are we going?”

“You, Sparrow, will learn your way home.”

“Please, no. Don’t.” Her heart thumped. She swallowed down the sudden panic. “Don’t make me leave.”

“No, no, Sparrow. I want you to know your place in the forest. I will not have the time to fetch you if you decide to stray. When I send you collecting, I will want you to bring back what you pick.”

Was Sparrow any better than girl?

“Keep your eyes open. I want you to notice what we pass, because you will lead us back.”

Her stomach clenched at his words. Fighting a flash of panic, she glanced about to mark things to find her way back to the tower.

They walked for a little way before he pointed to the left. “There is a gnarled oak over there. Do you see it? Tell me what grows at its base.”

“Nettles, lots of them, you can use for dyeing wool.”

A flash of his smile showed. “Yes, I know the colors they can make. Very good, now look at the oak from the other direction, as if you walked back toward the tower. Study and remember it.”

Doing as he asked, she memorized the shape of the ancient oak with its huge lumps and twisted branches. When she turned back, he had stepped well ahead. She dashed to keep up.

“Do you remember?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

They walked on until he stopped. “Do you recognize this place?”

She looked about her. Here, she had waited to die last night. The tall ash she had climbed stood majestic. The memory of his arms around her gave a warm glow inside.

“Nin, do you recognize this place or not?”

“Oh, yes, I know it.”

He tilted his hat backwards. “Are you concentrating? I hope so. Otherwise, we will have a very long walk back.”

She nodded.

“Good, now, see how the branch third from the top points south?”

She counted the branches, studied the angle. “Yes, I think I have it.”

“If you ever find yourself here, follow the direction the branch points. That way you will be heading toward my tower.”

Her stomach rumbled loudly.

“Are you hungry again, already?”

“Yes, I ate little yesterday. I had nothing at all for two days before,” she explained.

“Very well, here, you can eat this. I’d brought it as something for the wild birds, but I suppose they’ll not mind a hungry sparrow having it instead.” He handed her a chunk of bread from a cloth tucked inside the fold of his robe.

“Thank you, Thabit.” She could make out the sparkle in his eyes under the wide brim of his hat.

“Come, we go farther. You can eat while we walk. What do you see among those bushes?”

Cramming a chunk of bread in her mouth, she looked toward the direction he pointed. “There’re brambles,” she spluttered through breadcrumbs. She swallowed the rest of the bread. “That means there will be blackberries.”

“Well done. They are not ripe yet, but within a month or two the first of them will be, and you will come back to collect a supply.”

The bread she chewed as they went was days old and hardly the tastiest treat, but it filled the gap in her stomach. All the time they walked, the trees grew denser around the path. The scent of wild garlic filled the air. Shade dappled parts of the forest floor and deep shadows cast gloom over more. When they entered the cool shadows, a shiver ran over her. She glanced across to the Mage.

“There is nothing here to concern you. The wolves will be well fed and asleep at this time in the day. The only thing you should fear are the troops from the garrison, and after Friday their interest will be controlled.”

“Why? How do you know?”

“On Friday, I go to the castle. You will accompany me. The troop will see you are my servant. Therefore, you’ll be safe from any of their unwanted attentions.”

A thrill shot through her. The castle! No one she knew had ever traveled so far from the village. She finished the last bite of the bread. Didn’t his long legs ever tire?

At the base of a tall tree, he stopped. “What tree is this?”

“A beech. It’s a big one.” She glanced up at the main branches. The boughs were thick and spread wide. The tree seemed to clear a space amongst the others for itself.

“I want you to remember this beech tree. You will not go farther from the tower in this direction without me.”

He sat and took off the straw hat. His hair stuck up in dark spikes. She wanted to smooth it into place.

“You know the names of some of the trees, Sparrow?”

“I do.” A surge of pride filled her.

“I will teach you more as we go on.”

“Are we going back to the tower?”

“Not yet. Do you know how to swim?”

“Yes, a bit. I used to swim in the millpond every summer until Aunt Jen said it was unseemly since I was full grown.”

“Good, good.”

He stood, but didn’t seem to be listening as he donned the hat. She clasped the hand he offered and he yanked her to her feet.

“This way.”

She followed him through a stand of tall trees, then into a clearer section where willow and sedge edged a pool. The dark water silvered when the breeze swept over the surface. She shuddered. The water looked deep.

“Fearful again? That must stop. You can learn nothing of the world if fear controls all you do.”

She didn’t like the way he seemed to read her thoughts with such ease.

He stopped where the turf edged the water. “I will go in first. You can join me once you undress.”

“What? Take the tunic off?”

“Well, I do not normally swim clothed, Sparrow. Do you?”

“No, but…” Fire blazed in her cheeks.

He took off the hat and laughed. “I will not look at you, girl, believe me. I wish to swim, to be cool and give my body the chance to breathe. Yours will learn to breathe, too, but you must give it the opportunity. Forget what they told you in the village. Now, do as I say, close your eyes.”

Her heart beat swift for all the wrong reasons, but she covered her eyes with her hands. Though temptation to steal a glance at him beckoned, she wouldn’t dare. Oh, how Alicia would laugh at her.

The hum of insects grew louder and the breeze rustled the leaves. Soft chirrups of birdsong broke through the quietness.

Water splashed. He called, “All right. You can come in.”

She opened her eyes. His dark head cleared the water. A faint shimmer of his pale shoulders showed beneath the ripples.

“Now, you go behind the bush to undress. I will turn my back until you are in the pool.”

She untied the scarf and, when she stood behind the bush, slipped the tunic over her head. All the time she watched to see if he might peek. He didn’t, but kept his word, even when, as she tiptoed her way into the pool, she yelped as the cold water covered her rear.

“I’m in.” She shivered, neck deep, stretching her toes down to the bottom.

“Good, you swim and relax. Let your body learn from the water—allow yourself to breathe deep.”

He disappeared from the spot in four or five long stokes, cleaving the surface in neat, even movements. She watched him go before she rolled over to float on her back. The cool of the water seeped into her hair, a delicious sensation to remind her of the millpond where she had played with the others in childhood.

The dark water washed soft against her skin. She tilted her head right back listening to him splash along. When she turned onto her front, he swam strongly a distance away.

She reached out and swam for a way in the other direction. The water here seemed to support her so that she could lie on its surface like a leaf. She floated again on her back, drifted past a big willow, and heard Thabit’s movements behind her.

“I am getting out. Wait for a few moments, then join me.” His voice carried over the water. The ducks took flight.

She lay her head back, happy to wait.

“You can come out now,” he called after a few minutes. “Do not fret. I will not look at you. Meet me by the big beech.” His robe billowed as he headed back toward the tall tree.

She scrambled to get out, still uncertain of the way. Not bothering to wring out her hair, she pulled on the blue tunic, grabbed the scarf, and dashed after him.