The Bonemender's Choice Part 2

Bath day, she decided, and wondered how it could be done.

She was just broaching the subject with Aline over a midday meal of barley bread and the salted dried twists of mutton the Maronnais shepherds used as travel fare, when the door opened. Simon stood framed in the light that poured into the cabin, bandages gone, his hands hanging free at his sides.

Aline had not mentioned her husband once in Gabrielle's hearing, and Gabrielle had wondered if there were hard feelings between them. But no-Aline's cry as she sprang to Simon's side was as eloquent as any declaration of love. Gabrielle watched Aline gasp and laugh as she examined Simon's hands, watched his dark eyes well up with tears at the sight of his girls sleeping peacefully.

Later, when Simon sat down to join them at table, Gabrielle asked to see his hands. He flipped them over, spread out his big-knuckled fingers and grinned.

"Can you believe it? And he didn't do hardly anything. Just held onto one of 'em or the other and kind of dozed over it. And then my hand would feel warm and kind of buzzy, like it were a hive of bees, but the burning pain of it would ease off, and I would feel easier in my mind too. And each time, when he was done, the hand looked better."

Towas had done well. Simon's palms were shiny pink, but it was the pink of new skin, not of burned flesh or scarring. They would be sensitive for some time yet, but they would serve him almost as well as before.

"Oh, and before I forget-someone is coming here to see you, m'Lady."

Gabrielle looked up, surprised. Towas, perhaps, coming to help with the twins?

"His name is Feolan. He just rode into town-or whatever that Stonewater place is-as I was getting ready to leave. He says he'll be here by sundown." Simon frowned, struck by a sudden doubt.

"You do know him, m'Lady? He looked something scruffy compared to the others there."

Gabrielle laughed-the first laugh she could remember since arriving at the village-picturing Feolan's response to hearing that a Maronnais shepherd had declared him "scruffy." He would have just returned from trade talks in the Gamier capital of Turleau-a long journey through rough country.

"Oh yes, I know him. He's my husband."

BY THE TIME Feolan arrived, the girls had been cleaned up, dosed with medicine, coated (sparingly, this time) with honey and settled back comfortably on their pallets. Simon had taken on the bath project with dispatch, producing two trestle tables, which he set up in an empty livestock shed, and enlisting everyone who could be found in the village to contribute buckets of warm water. He and Aline had carried the girls to the shed and laid them gently on the tables, and Gabrielle had got to work.

Feolan had proved himself equally useful, bringing dinner, a pannier of clean clothes and a tent. After days of sharing a bed and eating hastily prepared peasant fare, an Elvish picnic and a night alone were luxurious gifts.

"How long will you stay?" asked Gabrielle. Colette had been visibly relieved to find she would not need to house and feed Feolan, but only find a patch of ground he could camp on. Still, there was little he could do here.

"I should head back tomorrow." Feolan leaned over the fire to fish out the last packets of limara- a rich concoction of dried fruits, nuts, spices and honey, wrapped into a curl of birchbark and soaked before heating in the coals-and gingerly dropped one onto Gabrielle's plate. The evening star had just appeared, shining out over the far hills. "Tilumar is keen to discuss Gamier's trade offer. I just wanted to see you."

Gabrielle couldn't see the sudden brightening of Feolan's eyes in the waning light, but she felt the flare of his desire. Teasing, she carried on their matter-of-fact conversation as though she hadn't noticed, knowing he would sense her own true feelings.

"Can you leave me the tent? I'm sure Aline would rather share her bed with Simon."

"Of course." Feolan smiled wickedly. "If you think you can keep warm without me."

CHAPTER SIX.

THE PIRATES SWARMED through the streets of Chenier, ragged shadows with black-toothed grins and flaming eyes. Madeleine shrank into a doorway as they pounded past her, but the last, a huge mountain of a man, stopped, turned, and the rotten smile broadened into a roar of glee. He grabbed her, brandishing the blade of his great crescent knife and laying it along her throat, and she screamed and screamed but all that came out was... a hoa.r.s.e mew that blessedly was enough to wake her.

Madeleine sat up in bed, trying to suppress the wild pounding of her heart. She had overheard talk of pirates that night, not at the dinner table but in the private study where she had hovered in the hallway to listen. Served her right, then, for spying. It was guilt, more than fear, had brought this lurid and overwrought nightmare. So she told herself.

Her nightgown was damp with sweat, cold now in the early spring air. She slipped out of bed and groped in the chest at its foot, finding a new shift by feel in the dark room.

She would never admit it to a soul, but there were times when she missed having a nurse sleep in the room with her. Times like this one, when Roch.e.l.le would stir up the fire and chase away the night phantoms with her warm arms and sensible voice.

Since Madeleine's thirteenth birthday so much had changed. She was a woman now, the crampy bleeding that had come for the first time last month confirming it. She loved the privacy of her room, her new, grown-up dresses and being part of the adult dinners. But she missed-well, she missed Matthieu. A gulf had opened between them, invisible but so hard to cross. Everything he said to her seemed silly or insulting. Everything she said seemed disapproving or superior. He said she was "prissy" and half the time he was right-but she didn't mean to be.

Tonight, though, the gulf had closed up, just for a bit. She saw him again bursting into the dining room with his jacket misb.u.t.toned and his tunic tail poking out in back. When he sat down between Madeleine and Sylvain, only the children had seen the fluffy curl of a gray breast-feather caught in the tousled hair on the back of his head. By unspoken agreement they said nothing, though Sylvain had caught his big sister's eye with a smirk many times through the meal. Finally, at dessert, Madeleine had plucked out the feather with a flourish and planted it in Matthieu's custard where it waved under his breath like a brave little flag. Matthieu, rising to the challenge, had snapped it a smart salute.

Smiling at the memory, Madeleine burrowed into her blankets. She could sleep now. Matthieu had chased away the pirates.

BITING THEIR LIPS with the effort, clutching onto each other's arms for support, Mira and Marie walked slowly but steadily across the road and into Gabrielle's outstretched arms. She felt her eyes well up at the sight, but blinked back the tears and instead gave the girls her most radiant smile. They snuggled against her, and she tugged their neat braids gently. Solemn hazel eyes looked up at her.

"You are such brave wonderful girls, and I am so proud of you."

Shy smiles, just a little wider from Mira. It was easier to tell them apart now, and not only because she knew them better. Mira's gait was draggy in the left leg, the result of a damaged tendon behind the knee. With use it would improve, but Gabrielle thought there would always be a lingering limp.

"You remember what I told you," she added. "You do your stretches four times a day-at every meal and before you sleep. Do them just the way we practiced, and your legs will grow stronger and stronger."

"They'll do their stretches, all right." Simon stood at the doorway to Colette's house, his wife and mother-in-law just behind. "We'll all see to it."

"Then I think that's all." Gabrielle stood and held a hand out to each girl, and together they made their way back to the cabin. She looked now to Aline. "If there's an unexpected setback, you know where to find me. Don't hesitate."

Aline was in tears now, but Simon was more practical. "We can't begin to pay you for what you've done, but whatever we can pay we will."

Gabrielle shook her head. "No, no. There is no fee. Please don't even think of it." She was so thankful she had never had to charge for her services. She couldn't imagine asking these hardworking people, who had already been through so much, for money, or how she could possibly calculate a value for what she did.

"Well, you can't go away empty-handed. Wait here a minute." Simon disappeared behind the cabin and emerged carrying a bulging burlap sack. It squirmed and gave a m.u.f.fled squawk.

"Three good chickens in here. If ye'd be so kind to give one to that Towas fella, by way of my own thanks."

YOLENKA FINGERED, once again, the intricate gold filigree and fine four-strand bronze plait of the necklace. It had taken Derkh a long time to figure out how to incorporate the delicate filigree highlights into the focal point of the necklace-a bold, swooping beaten bronze shape inspired by the deeply flexed wings of an eagle.

"You made this?" Amber eyes blazed at him.

Derkh nodded, a little taken aback. Yolenka looked almost angry. Maybe he'd gone too far. "Do you not like it?"

She glared at him. "What is wrong with you? Why you spend your days hammering at horse-metal and buckets, when you have gift like this?" She looked at it again, shaking her head in disbelief. "Is better than anything I ever see here. Better even than much Tarzine work. Style is...beautiful. Different."

Yolenka stood, tossed back her tawny mane and fastened the necklace. The bronze wings spanned from one collarbone to the other, glinting gold and looking just as fabulous against her warm skin as Derkh had hoped. G.o.ds, she took his breath away.

She stalked toward him, raised her face for a kiss that nearly brought him to his knees, and continued her lecture.

"I thank you. I mean this. Is most beautiful thing I have. But you, you are loose in the head. You do work like this, you make and sell everywhere! n.o.bles, rich men, all will buy! Why you hide here in this piddle town?"

Derkh said nothing as a mult.i.tude of answers swirled around in his head. Because he owed Theo, who had apprenticed him, another half-year as a journeyman was the easy answer. Because La Maronne, with its clipped accent and plain-talking country people, felt more like home than the southern town of Chenier might be another. But underlying everything was the fact that he was the son of Greffaire's highest military commander, and "jewelry artisan" was not an occupation that even existed in his mind. It was strange enough to find himself silversmithing as a private hobby.

He was saved a reply by the appearance of his landlady. "Excusing the interruption, Mister Derkh, but you have more visitors." She stressed the word "more" as if his sudden popularity was less than seemly. She frowned. "Very grand and handsome they are too."

A flush of pleasure lit up Derkh's face. There were few enough people likely to arrive as unexpected visitors to his lodgings and fewer still who could be described as "grand."

"A tall man with dark hair, and a woman?" he asked.

The mistress nodded. "The same."

"Bring them-" Derkh glanced around the dark little salon. He felt cramped in here already, with only Yolenka in the room. "No, never mind, we'll come to the door to meet them." He grinned at Yolenka.

"You wanted to meet Elves? Here's your chance."

"I BEAR A special invitation from the Regent of Crow Island and the Blanchette Coast."

Greetings and introductions and small talk had all been accomplished, and they were now ensconced at a table at Yolenka's inn, where Feolan and Gabrielle happened to be staying. It was Yolenka's first experience as a customer there, and she was rather critical of the service.

"I do better," she had a.s.sured them. "You eat here tomorrow, you call for me."

Derkh stared at the elaborate scroll that Feolan had produced with a flourish.

"They want me to come?"

"Tristan made a special point of asking us to deliver the invitation personally, to make certain you come," said Gabrielle. "He says he hasn't seen you in years and you have still never been to the coast."

The DesChenes family would never stop amazing him, Derkh decided. First they had all unhesitatingly befriended a wounded enemy soldier that Gabrielle brought home from the war. Now he was included in a family birthday celebration as though he were a favorite cousin.

It would be a long trip, though. "I don't think Theo will want to let me go for so long," he said doubtfully. The royal seal of Verdeau was impressive, but it held no authority over the citizens of La Maronne.

"I think perhaps he will," said Feolan, producing another scroll. "This is probably the biggest order your master has ever had. You'll be kept busy filling it, I'm afraid, but it comes on condition that the first lot be delivered by you personally and that you stay on at the Queen's pleasure. He'll be well compensated for your time away."

How long had it been since he had traveled with his friends, seen new sights? Derkh was content enough with his new trade and his little town, but now his appet.i.te for adventure awoke. Suddenly he couldn't wait to be on the road.

"We leave in, what, just over a month?" he asked.

Gabrielle and Feolan nodded.

"I'll be ready."

"I too will be ready," Yolenka announced.

Derkh stared at her, not knowing how to reply. Surely she was not inviting herself to the Queen of Verdeau's party?

"What?" she demanded irritably. "You travel south, no? To Chenier, to Blanchette?"

It was Gabrielle who answered. "That's right. Probably we will stay a couple of days in Chenier with my family before traveling on to the coast together."

"I know these places. Big. Busy. Not like this piddle town. I do better there than carry ale and empty p.i.s.s pots."

Her shoulders rippled in that elaborate eloquent shrug, hands rising to complete the gesture and eyebrows lifting to pull her almond eyes into wide round innocence. "I travel with you, is all I ask. Is all right?"

"You're more than welcome." Gabrielle again, with a warm smile that hid her relief. Derkh didn't feel relieved, not at all. He was thrilled to have Yolenka travel with him. His worry was that she would not come back.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

BLANCHETTE WAS A BUSY TRADE PORT and market town, smaller than the royal city of Chenier but more varied and lively. Tristan, when he became regent of the area, took to it immediately, reveling in the noisy docks crowded with trade ships and fishing boats, enjoying the contrast between the rough jumble of lodging-houses, shops, taverns and warehouses dockside and the s.p.a.cious landscaped manors of the rich merchants and n.o.blemen in the upper town. Beyond them all was the endless Gray Sea, an ever-changing dance of light and wind and water, and on the horizon the just-visible crescent edge of Crow Island.

Almost as soon as his visitors had arrived, Tristan had offered them a tour of the town. Only Justine and Dominic, who knew Blanchette well, and Solange, who was tired from the journey, had turned him down.

"Here's one coming in now." Tristan pointed, leaning far over the railing to get the best view of the ship that had just billowed into sight. A local merchant had been prevailed upon to offer up the balcony that opened out from his second-story office in a warehouse across from the docks, so that the visitors could enjoy a high and private look at the harbor. "When the wind is contrary, they have to row through the straits between the mainland and Crow Island," Tristan said, "but this one is under full sail. You'll get to see them drop the rigging as they approach the harbor."

He hadn't lost his sense of childlike wonder, thought Gabrielle, regent though he was. Tristan was clearly enjoying the sight as much as his son Jerome, who perched on his shoulders. As for Derkh, he was like a questing hound, senses alert, nostrils flared to any new scent. He straightened now, craning his neck.

"Tristan-what are those ships at the far end of the pier?" Half again as big as the coastal traders docked beside them, two great double-masted ships hunkered out in the deepest water. With their sleek lines, thrusting bowsprits and long yardpoles raking back into the sky as though bent in a gale, they stood out from the boxy Basin ships like falcons among pigeons.

"Is Tarzine ships!" Yolenka spoke out. Her proud face filled with eagerness. "I will speak to them. I leave you now." She had clattered down the stairs and emerged into the street below before anyone could stop her.

"Yolenka, be careful!" Derkh shouted down to her. "Those men are-" He was cut off by an impatient wave and a quick grin over her shoulder.

The little group watched Yolenka's progress down the pier. Twice men approached her, only to back off hastily.

"Your friend appears well able to handle Blanchette's seamen," observed Tristan. "I wonder what she said to those poor fellows."

"Probably nothing you'd want your children to hear," Derkh admitted, and Matthieu sn.i.g.g.e.red.

His sister said nothing, but her eyes never left the small figure stalking toward the foreign ships. She's formidable, Madeleine thought, savoring the syllables as they sounded in her head. That's exactly the word. And she wondered what it would be like to face the world with such brash self-confidence.

Feolan was still thinking about the ships. "Are they welcome here, given the raids you told us about?"

Tristan shrugged. "Tarzine traders have always been treated with some suspicion, and they are watched now more carefully than ever. But these men are honest-well, I don't know that they are honest, but they are just traders, not pirates. And the very n.o.bles who mutter about their presence here are the ones who clamor for Tarzine rugs and silks. So our merchants are ill-inclined to turn them away."

Yolenka's boasts about her country's artistry had been nothing but the truth. The rug in Gabrielle's chamber in Chenier was of Tarzine make, and by lamp or firelight the colors were so rich they seemed to glow with a life of their own.

"Don't forget the demand for Tarzine jewelry," she said now. "Did you notice the necklace Yolenka is wearing? It's stunning. The filigree work has an almost Elvish look to it, but that bold bronze centerplate is like nothing I've ever seen."

Derkh felt himself flush with pride and pleasure, but everyone was still looking out to sea and it pa.s.sed unnoticed. Only Feolan's gaze rested on Derkh-but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"MATTHIEU, HURRY UP! You're like an old man falling asleep over his gaming dice." Only he was not asleep, Madeleine knew. He was hunched over the chiggers board like a predatory beast.

Not so long ago, Matthieu had been easy to beat. He was long on impulse and short on patience, going always for the flamboyant but obvious move. All you had to do to block him was think. But that had changed. Matthieu had discovered the value of strategy and learned to slow down long enough to use it. But he had never taken this long at a turn. Madeleine had the uneasy feeling she had missed something.

Evening had waned into night, and with the younger children tucked into bed most of the rest of the family had gathered in what Uncle Tristan called "the sunroom." It wasn't sunny now, but Madeleine loved the way you could peek up through the big window set into the roof and see the summer stars. This had been her favorite room, she remembered, back when she had been little and lived here instead of in Chenier.

Suddenly Matthieu's taut face relaxed into a triumphant grin. "I knew it was there somewhere!" He picked up his gray marble lead dog (for he was the hunter this round, to Madeleine's prey), o'erhopped three hounds to land on a reverse square, summoned the two-square falcon token he had pulled earlier and saved, and landed neatly on the stag. The game was over.