Daughter of Prophecy (41 page)

Now Cyndae seemed to have picked up on what was happening between Breanna and Harred. Her worried eyes cut back and forth between the two of them, then at her husband.

“Clansman Stuegin,” she said warmly to Elmar as she rocked her sister's little girl to sleep in her lap, “I have never heard of this brown moss and tangleweed poultice you are preparing. Are they found only in these mountains?”

At the sound of her mother's voice breaking the silence, Breanna lowered her eyes from Harred's, who cleared his throat and looked into the fire.

Gripping a pot of warm water between his knees, Elmar used the handle of his skinning knife to make a paste of the shredded mass of herbs from the supplies he had brought. “Be calling me Elmar. And yes—”

“I think it will be best to use proper modes of address,” Abel said. Feldon gave his uncle a puzzled look at the cold tone. “These are Lord Gillaon's men,” Abel went on, “and less than cordial relations exist between our kinsmen at the moment. More,” he said, giving Harred a sharp look, “Breanna will be betrothed at the Dinari Presentation. Her bride price has been paid, and I will tolerate no interference with that.”

Elmar peered up from the pot and locked eyes with Abel. “I tell you this because you must not rightly hear Harred—Lord Gillaon's rhyfelwr—when we first be at your wagon.” Elmar's voice was dangerously soft. “He gave his word that we be ready to help you and your family. That be meaning, Loreteller, that he and I be putting aside clan rivalries and such until we be a-seeing you and your family safe out of these mountains.” He tapped the lip of the pot with his knife to emphasize his next words. “You be mentioning betrothals and bride prices. Can it be you question our honor? That you feel the need to protect your daughter from us after we give our word that we be here to help you and have risked our lives to do so?”

Harred glanced quickly at Breanna, who caught his look then dropped her eyes to her lap.

The silence lengthened.

Abel swallowed. “I . . . er . . . of course I do not question your honor. This is difficult and—”

“What be difficult about your wife calling me Elmar and believing we will respect your daughter?”

It dawned on Harred that he
was
a rhyfelwr, an advisor equal to a loreteller, and it was time to start acting like it. “Can we wash this pot clean and start a fresh stew?” he said earnestly. “Until we leave these mountains I am Harred, he is Elmar, you are Abel, and your wife is Cyndae. Agreed?” he said with a touch of command in his voice.
And your daughter is an angel straight from heaven.

Abel exchanged glances with Cyndae, then nodded. “Yes, I agree.”

Cyndae tried again. “Elmar . . . please tell me about this poultice. It is brown moss and what?”

The tension eased as she and Elmar talked about healing herbs and their uses. Cyndae was well versed on the subject and related several uses Elmar had not known.

Harred watched Abel. The man's face was still tight with anger or pain or both. Suppressing a sigh, Harred let his eyes drift again toward Breanna as the wind and snow roared outside.

She sat calm and neat, hands folded in her lap, staring into the fire, the flickering light playing across her features. As if feeling his eyes upon her, she looked up at him. The hint of sadness, of loss, in her gaze twisted his heart.

Glancing toward Elmar, Harred caught Cyndae's gaze. She smiled ever so slightly while almost imperceptibly shaking her head, silently communicating the impossibility of any future between him and her daughter.

The wind howled the rest of the day and into the night. Elmar and Cyndae applied the poultice to Abel's leg. Then everyone pulled blankets over their heads and tried to sleep.

Long after darkness fell, Harred remained huddled underneath his blanket, arms wrapped around his legs, knees pulled to his chin, staring into the fire.

The storm lasted until mid-afternoon the next day. Overnight the poultice had reduced the swelling. So, with Abel full of poppy tea, Elmar set the fracture and applied a splint to the leg.

The following morning dawned clear and bitter cold with a stiff north wind. Harred and Elmar ventured out and led the horses and mules through hip-deep snow to a sheltered area where the animals were able to paw down to the dried grass below.

Thawing out back inside the cave, Harred kept finding Breanna's dark eyes resting on him, and a warm tremor coursed through his body each time it happened.

Cyndae proved to be a skillful cook. She took the supplies brought from their wagon and prepared mouth-watering meals. Every time Breanna brought Harred his plate, her hand managed to brush his. Her touch sent tingles through him. The first time it happened, he almost dropped his plate. Both Elmar and Cyndae were aware of this interplay, but Abel, full of poppy tea—Harred suspected Cyndae of deliberately keeping him so—remained unsuspecting.

The next day, the wind was less frigid. The morning after that, Elmar declared it safe to leave.

When they left the cave, the whole world seemed coated with white. The powdery snow had softened every angle and covered the landscape as if an infant's blanket had been laid over it. A crow called from far away, its caw echoing across the hillside. Feldon led the way with his horse breaking through the fresh snow. Cyndae cradled the young girl, and Breanna followed, their horses and the mules packing down the trail for Harred and Elmar as they carried Abel in the litter.

It was a cold, wet, slow, and exhausting struggle, with frequent stops for both the lead horse and for the two Arshessas to rest. That night they made camp under a dense tangle of berry vines and mountain laurel over which the snow had formed a heavy roof.

A little before noon the next day they were overtaken by a small group of travelers heading in the same direction. Abel was taken out of the litter and placed in their wagon. By nightfall they were back in Maude.

With the rest of the Caemhans following, Harred and Elmar carried Abel up the stairs of the inn. Knowing that the date for the Dinari Presentation was approaching, Abel was anxious to be traveling on. He had contracted with the wagon owners to take them straight to Dinari territory. He had told his family to be ready to leave at first light. Harred and Elmar set Abel on a bed and turned to go. Breanna gave Harred a weary smile, then disappeared behind the closing door.

Elmar clomped away on the plank floor, but Harred stood there, numb. Under Abel's watchful eyes there had been little opportunity to talk to Breanna on the trail, and last night he had been too exhausted to do anything but eat before falling into a dreamless sleep. Now he longed desperately for
something
from her before they parted. He had ridden out to save her from certain death, after all, and had saved her extended family in the process. Surely he could take away some token of her esteem. Something to acknowledge the mysterious connection they seemed to share.

Finally, he shook himself and went to his and Elmar's room and collapsed into bed.

The next morning, he and Elmar ate in the common room. At least Elmar ate. Harred sighed and pushed his food around as he kept checking the stairs for the Caemhans. He had heard voices inside their room as he'd passed on the way downstairs, so he knew they had not left.

Elmar sopped the last bit of gravy with a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth. Eyeing Harred's plate, he asked, “You be eating that or stirring it?”

Harred sighed and slid it over. Elmar ate with relish. Harred glanced at the stairs again, then took a sip of from his mug and sighed.

Finishing Harred's plate, Elmar regarded his brother-in-law. “Let her go,” he said softly. “She be spoken for. You just be tying yourself in knots. Many other beauties be wanting a man like you. You still be Lord Gillaon's rhyfelwr and the wagons not back safe yet, are they?”

Harred sighed again. Elmar spoke truth. Still . . .

Finally, Harred came to his feet. “Let's go check on the horses.”

When they returned from the stables the Caemhans were outside the inn waiting for the wagon to be loaded. While two men lifted Abel onto the back and situated him comfortably, Cyndae motioned to Harred and Elmar and led them a few paces away.

“I was hoping to see you before we left,” she said, “so I could express my undying gratitude. Without your assistance, we would surely not have survived. Elmar, thanks to you Abel's leg is mending, and I believe he will walk without a limp.”

Elmar was pleased. “I be your servant, m'lady. And I say Abel be like me. He be married to a better woman than he has any right to.”

Cyndae smiled, and Harred was struck by how much Breanna's smile was like her mother's.

At that moment Breanna came up to them. “I need to say good-bye, too, Mother.”

Cyndae looked at her daughter closely, then turned back to Harred. “Well, young man, I am sure we will never see each other again,” she said meaningfully. “I wish you the Eternal's protection on your way home.”

“As I do for all of you.”

“Cyndae! Breanna!” Abel shouted. “We must be leaving.” Cyndae nodded. “Do not linger, Breanna.” She gave Harred a sad smile, then climbed into the wagon and helped Felton and his sister get situated in the back next to Abel.

Breanna and Harred stood on the wooden sidewalk. Elmar cleared his throat and paced away. People edged by them, hurrying about their business. The steady wind molded Breanna's cloak to her petite frame. Her black hair framed her face. Her dark eyes were moist as her lips parted in an unspoken goodbye. Her look was so poignant, so full of unspoken pathos and longing, that it seared into Harred's core.

He heard himself saying, “Do you serve the Eternal, Breanna Caemhan?”

She smiled at the memory, then lowered her gaze. “Always.”

“Do you long to join with a man who follows the Eternal as you do?” Harred pushed aside the mental image of the wagons of pagan goods he had brought back this summer.

Breanna lifted her face and regarded him with liquid eyes. “Is Harred Wright such a man?”

As had happened when he had talked with her after the wool sale, something inside him urged total honesty. “I can be . . . with your help.”

“Breanna!” Abel shouted. “We leave!”

Breanna closed her eyes and her lips moved silently. After a long moment, she opened her eyes again. She studied Harred's face with the intensity he was coming to recognize. He felt her searching his eyes, questioning, wondering.

“Sometimes I sense the Eternal's guidance,” she said slowly. “And sometimes I think I sense it but am proven wrong. In you I
believe
I sense his purposes. For you and . . . perhaps . . . for us.”

Harred took her hand. “I will come for—”

She covered his mouth with her fingers. How sublime they felt on his skin. “But I could be wrong, Harred de Tarenester en Wright, Clan Arshessa.” She dropped her hand and regarded him thoughtfully. Then she seemed to come to a conclusion. She leaned to his ear and spoke in a whisper. “If you come for me at the Pole, I will not refuse you. We will trust the Eternal.”

“Breanna!” Abel shouted. “In the wagon now!”

Quick as a breeze Breanna gave Harred a kiss on the cheek. Then she was into the wagon, and the driver carried them off.

Pulse racing, Harred watched them jostle down the snow-packed street. Breanna did not face him. He watched her black hair blow in the cold wind. The wagon rounded a bend in the road and was lost from sight.

Harred stood there watching the empty road. Elmar approached and waited patiently.

“After we return,” Harred said finally, “I will visit the Dinari Gathering and there present suit for Breanna Caemhan, daughter of Loreteller Abel Caemhan. If Abel refuses my suit, as I am sure he will, then I will demand a
Wifan-er-Weal
.”

Elmar let his breath out slowly. He put his hand on Harred's shoulder. “May the Eternal have mercy on us all.”

Chapter Twenty-nine