Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [82]
“Used it to free Reuven,” Mosiah replied. “Then I would have changed myself into a bat and flown away with it, of course. Or did you think I’d take it and try to run with it, through this godforsaken wilderness, and you with an air car to catch me!”
He sat hunched and huddled in his robes, which were as wet as my clothes. He held his shoulders rigid, to keep from revealing that he was shivering.
“I thought the sword too heavy for Eliza to wield,” he added coldly. “I see now that I was wrong.”
Scylla made no reply, but from the faint flush I could see rising up the back of her neck, I believe that she was ashamed of having made the accusation. He had given his word to help us and we had no reason to doubt him. If he had a small reserve of Life left to him, that was only sensible. No wizard depleted himself utterly, if he could help it. He had voluntarily gone out into the drenching rainstorm to guard me, and if he hadn’t warned me of the Kij vines, I might well have floundered in among them so deeply that not even the Darksword could have saved me.
Eliza offered him a blanket, which he refused with a curt shake of his head. She said nothing; her face was calm and smooth. She still did not trust him and she made no apology for it. She tucked the blanket around me, made certain I was comfortable. She repacked the first-aid kit, then asked if there was anything else she could do for me. She offered me the electronic notepad, in case I wanted to write anything.
I indicated no, smiling, to show her that I was much better. And, indeed, I was. The horror was starting to recede. The air car was warming up rapidly. My shivering ceased, the pain was gone. The ointment deserved some credit, undoubtedly, but no salve can heal the terrors of the soul. Eliza’s touch had been the true cure.
Some emotions need no words. Eliza saw in my eyes what I could not speak. A slight flush mantled her cheeks and she lookedaway from me, to the notepad in her hand. The pad provided her an excuse to change the subject.
“I don’t want to disturb you, Reuven, if you’re tired—”
I shook my head. She could never disturb me, nor could I ever be too tired to do anything she might ask of me.
“I would like to learn sign language,” she said, almost shyly. “Would you mind teaching me?”
Would I mind! I knew she was doing this only out of kindness, to take my mind off the terrible experience I had suffered. I agreed, of course, hoping it might take her mind off her own horrors. She moved closer to me. I began by teaching her the alphabet, spelling out her name. She understood immediately. She was a quick student, and within a very short time she had the entire alphabet and could run through it, hand and fingers flashing.
The air car soared over rain-soaked grasslands, lifted and climbed up over treetops. We were traveling very fast now, though I wondered if our speed would make up for the time we had lost in the storm. Mosiah maintained his cool, offended silence.
The sun continued to shine, though it was often hidden by racing clouds. Scylla turned down the heat in the air car, which— with the wet clothes—was beginning to resemble a sauna.
“Those Kij vines,” she said abruptly. “They behaved rather oddly, don’t you think?”
Mosiah looked at her, and though I was busy with Eliza, I saw a glint of interest flicker in his eyes. “Perhaps,” was all he said noncommittally. “What do you mean?”
“They came after Reuven,” Scylla said. “Did you ever know the vines to be that aggressive? And those vines had grown tall and thick. Isn’t that unusual?”
Mosiah shrugged. “The Finhanish are no longer around to keep them thinned out. The Sif-Hanar are no longer here to control the weather. Of course, left alone, the Kij vines would thrive.”
“Plants born of magic,” Scylla mused. “Created by magic. One would think that when the magic in this land was depleted, the plants would lose their source of sustenance and they would die off. Not grow more abundantly.”
“Born of magic?” Eliza interrupted our lesson to ask. “What do you