The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [130]
“Dinna worry about that now. Ye need to rest,” Katlyn said, her highland accent strong. “That is the best healer of all, but first I will bring ye some food.”
She went out, taking the stained water with her, and returned in a moment with a bowl of soup.
“That smells wonderful,” I rasped.
She smiled. “It is an old recipe, a special healing mixture. Eat an’ then sleep. Ye can talk later.”
“Where are the others?” I asked Kella as soon as the woman had gone.
“Everyone is fine,” Kella said, and pointed firmly to the soup. “Now eat. If Katlyn says it will heal, it will. She knows so much about healing and medicines. I’ve never seen such an herb garden.”
“Herb?” I asked sharply.
“Katlyn is an herb lorist. She learned it from her grandmother. Apparently people came to the woman’s village from all over the Land, and they used to come see Katlyn before herb lore was banned. Many still come. I wish Roland could meet her.
“Does she not fear the Herders?”
Kella smiled. “She talks about the Council and the Herders as if they were a collection of naughty boys. She knows what she does is dangerous, but she says it’s her job.”
“How long have we been here?” I asked, anxious that we had stayed too long in the house of a woman who cared so little for her safety.
“Only a day, but without her help, we would have taken much longer to heal,” Kella said sternly, seeing my disapproval.
“I’m grateful for her help,” I said. “But it’s my job to keep us safe and finish this expedition without getting caught by the Council or the Faction—who are a lot more dangerous than bad boys. Now, tell me, where are we?”
Kella shrugged. “We’re not far from Rangorn and the Ford. It’s only the two of them here. There’s a son, but he’s a seaman. They seemed to think we might have heard of him when I’d told them we were runaways. I thought it best not to pry.”
“Good. How did you come to tell them we had escaped from a Councilfarm?”
“We had to tell them something. There was no way of hiding that we had been in a boating accident, but no one would have crossed the Suggredoon this far north unless they were trying to avoid being seen. Gypsies would hardly travel by water, and besides, our coloring has all but faded now. The Councilfarm runaway story seemed most plausible.”
“It’s risky,” I said. “You are certain they didn’t send word to the Council? There is a reward for information leading to the capture of runaways.”
Kella shook her head emphatically. “I don’t think it occurred to them.”
I frowned. “I suppose if Katlyn is an herb lorist, she wouldn’t want soldierguards here. So we’re probably safe enough for now.”
A flicker of anger crossed Kella’s face. “You’re too cynical, Elspeth. It makes you blind to things right under your nose,” she added obliquely.
“What about the others?”
“Everyone’s fine except for a few bruises and bumps. Pavo is not too good, but that has nothing to do with the accident.”
“Jik?” I asked.
She smiled. “A cracked rib. He’s milking the goats with Grufyyd. Domick has gone off to scout the area. Once a coercer …” I was astounded to see her eyes soften and wondered if friendship was all that had developed between them.
Kella stood, taking the empty bowl from my fingers. I could not even remember drinking the soup.
“Sleep and get better. The world will wait,” the healer said.
Weary as I was, I could not rest easy. The expedition seemed to be in tatters, without disguise or papers, two all but unfit to travel. I wondered if we would ever get home again.
Domick returned late that night.
“Elspeth?” he whispered outside the window.
“I’m awake,” I answered softly, sitting up. “Come in.”
He climbed through the window. “I am sleeping in the stables with Jik and Darga, but I wanted to talk to you while it was quiet. Katlyn and Grufyyd are good people,” Domick said. “Kella believes it, and so do I. I don’t like lying to them.”
I hid my amazement at these uncoercer-like sentiments.