Deadly Fate [Book 1 of the Teadai Prophecies] Page 4

  Haranda stopped the group.

  “I’m all right.” Henny sniffled and wiped at tears.

  “She can’t walk much more, Haranda,” Maesa said. These highborn girls rarely called any woman Mistress.

  “Bring her over here.” The Gypsy led them to a tree stump, slipped her pack to the ground, and placed her lantern nearby.

  Saldia and the others stepped close and held their lights for her. The Gypsy removed Henny’s slippers and stockings, and the girl winced as she looked at the blisters and bruises on her feet.

  Saldia thought Henny would faint at the sight. She studied the thin slippers the girl had been wearing. “Those shoes will never do, Mistress Haranda. Not for travel.” The Gypsy must have taken Henny from her home as quickly as she’d stolen Saldia. No one traveled in slippers, not even highborn girls.

  “She can have mine.” Eletha put her open hand near Henny’s feet as though measuring. “We wear the same size. Or close enough.” Before anyone could say otherwise, the little woman shucked her boots. “I have a pair of my brother’s hunting stockings on. They’ll give me enough protection until we get where we’re going.”

  “Thank you, Eletha,” Haranda said.

  Henny wiped her face on her sleeve as Haranda wrapped her feet with rags. The Gypsy’s pack was open and her hands so quick, Saldia knew she had healer training. She moved her gaze and studied the little fiery-haired woman, who was a good hand-span shorter than Henny. Eletha’s hips and breasts were more defined, yet anyone meeting the little woman for the first time might think her weak. That would prove a mistake.

  “There. That should keep you going until we can get you into a foot soak and salve wraps.” Haranda pushed Henny’s wrapped feet into Eletha’s boots.

  The youngest stood and took a couple of tentative steps then smiled. “Feels much better. Thank you.”

  Saldia took Henny’s pack and looped it over her shoulder with her own. Haranda gave her a quick nod as she smoothed Henny’s hair like a mother to a daughter.

  The Gypsy turned to Eletha. “You certain you’re going to be all right in those?”

  The little woman, who now wore Henny’s thin slippers over men’s stockings, shrugged. “I have tough feet. You don’t grow up with nine brothers and keep a soft hide.”

  So that’s why she preferred breeches.

  “All right, then.” Haranda donned her pack and scooped up her lantern. “Let’s continue.”

  Henny followed with Maesa supporting her on one side and Adelsik on the other, and the three managed to avoid tripping. Eletha carried Henny’s lantern and walked behind with Saldia. No one would have known she wore thin slippers on this rough ground. Henny had even forgotten about the sounds in the trees, or at least she ignored them now. Until a wolf howled. The three highborn girls squealed and huddled together like frightened children.

  Saldia’s heart jumped and she moved to Haranda with Eletha on her heels. She turned back but the highborn girls stood frozen in their little huddle.

  “It’s just a wolf,” Haranda said. “Come along. Hurry, younglings.” She seemed just as eager to be out of the forest.

  Henny shook her head when another howl filled the night. Adelsik and Maesa whimpered along with her. Then Saldia saw it, a large gray wolf, eyes glowing in the darkness. It stood directly in their path and she sucked in a breath as her heart hammered against her ribs. Bloody trouble.

  Henny shrieked but Haranda called, “Quiet!” Her eyes never left the wolf. “Stand still, younglings. Don’t run. Do you understand?”

  “That beastie will kill us,” Eletha said just above a whisper. “We should get up the trees.” Her lantern quivered.

  “No.” The Gypsy’s voice was firm. “Saldia, come to me. Slowly.”

  Saldia swallowed hard but did as told, despite the blood pounding in her ears. Haranda seemed to get farther with each step she took but she finally reached the Gypsy. The wolf hadn’t moved but its head was bent low and its teeth bared.

  “Take out the salted meat rations from your pack.”

  Mistress Lane had put some in Saldia’s bag just in case the trip took longer than expected. She kept eyes on the wolf while she carefully set her lantern and Henny’s pack down on a nearby stump and rummaged through her own. Her bladder felt loose. Once she found the meat, she pulled it from her pack and unwrapped it.

  “I have it, Haranda.”

  “Good. Put it in my hand.” The Gypsy reached behind and Saldia gave the meat to her. Haranda tossed it to the wolf. The beast showed its teeth again before it snatched up the food and ran off. “Keep still.” Haranda stood, unmoving, for several heartbeats, as though listening to some distant sound. “The pack is headed away from here. Come along. We should hurry.”

  Saldia scooped up her burdens and followed the Gypsy with Eletha on her heels, not bloody caring how Haranda knew the wolves’ whereabouts. She could ask questions later.

  They went only eight strides when Haranda stopped again, and Saldia turned to see where she gazed. Henny, Maesa and Adelsik hadn’t budged. All three whimpered in their terrified huddle.

  “Come along, younglings,” the Gypsy said. “The wolves are gone. We’ve no time to dawdle.” None of them budged until Haranda doubled back and latched onto Henny. “You heard me. Now move.” Adelsik and Maesa bolted forward as Haranda drew Henny along.

  They moved swiftly down the rough trail with the three highborn girls whimpering the entire way.

  “Why didn’t you kill the wolf beastie with your Gypsy power?” Eletha said.

  “There was no need. Besides, the pack wasn’t far off. They might have attacked if I’d harmed one of them.”

  Saldia’s heart jumped. So, Gypsies weren’t all-powerful like the stories she’d read. Yet Haranda hadn’t denied that she could kill a wolf with her powers.

  No one spoke now. They stayed close to one another and Haranda kept a brisk pace.

  After a while, Saldia’s legs began to tire and she wondered just how far they had left to travel. She glanced back at Henny, who hadn’t complained after the incident with the wolves. The girl kept up with little trouble now.

  Haranda finally stopped them at the edge of the trees. “There it is.” She pointed to a dimly lit farmhouse. “They have horses for us. And beds.”

  This time no one needed a threat to get them moving and soon they stood at the farmhouse door.

  When an old man answered, Haranda held the lantern up to her face. “I’m Gypsy Haranda Banwidden. Mistress Lane sent us.”

  “Yes.” The man scratched at his scraggly beard. “The other one is already here. I thought there would only be six. Mistress Lane’s pigeon message read six. Now I have to give up another horse.” The man shook his head and waved them inside. “My apologies, Gypsy Haranda. It’s been a very thin season.”

  “Apology accepted.” She stepped in, taking Henny with her. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

  “By the kindness of the Goddess,” the old man uttered. “Thank you. Put your lanterns on that table. I’ll tend to them.”

  “Who are we meeting, Mistress Haranda?” Saldia said as she put her lantern down and followed behind the rest.

  The Gypsy didn’t answer but worry etched her face. The farmhouse smelled of burning logs, and Saldia stepped near Haranda as the old man led them into a large room. A girl sat in a chair near the fireplace, a well-worn pack on the floor near her.

  “Your friends are here,” the old man announced.

  Haranda stiffened as the stranger rose. The girl stood taller than the Gypsy. She wore patched breeches and a tunic and her right hand rested on a knife at her belt, revealing a thin, black tattoo that encircled her wrist like a chain. Her honey-colored braid wrapped like a wreath around her head, and the boots on her feet had tiny holes near the toe area. The girl looked worn but young.

  “I’ll see if your beds are ready,” the old man continued. “My wife said you’d want baths, so she’s tending to that.” He left as Haranda t
hanked him.

  The Gypsy moved toward the stranger. “What’s your name?”

  “I could ask the same of you,” the girl replied in a slight drawl. Saldia didn’t recognize the accent. “The old couple thinks we’re traveling together. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to see what a Gypsy looked like.” She put one hand on her hip but the other remained at her belt knife. “You don’t look at all like I imagined.”

  “Don’t play games with me, youngling.”

  The girl pursed her lips and raised her brows. She looked amused. “All right. I suppose someone has to go first. My name is Kal. She took her hand from the knife and showed her wrist, as though that circlet tattoo explained everything. “I’m from Nar. I came here looking for the forest woman. Someone to help me get these bloody voices out of my head.” Just then, Kal looked very young, very lost. “All I found was that old couple. They said others were on the way so I stayed.” She cocked her head. “Your turn.” Her eyes sparkled and Saldia thought they looked green in the firelight.

  The Gypsy looked as though she might smile but she didn’t. “I’m Gypsy Haranda Banwidden. This is Saldia Trich.” Saldia bent her head politely and Kal nodded back. “Eletha Lavine.” Haranda motioned to the fiery-haired woman. Eletha looked Kal up and down and seemed to approve of her. “Henny Iven Jesik.” The youngest offered a weary smile. “Maesa Reman.” Maesa cocked her head and pursed those thick lips. “And Adelsik Nunsey.” The doll-faced girl sniffed with a similar look of disdain she always gave to Saldia.

  “Are you going to the Land of the Goddess too?” Henny said.

  Haranda shot her a withering gaze and the girl stood silent, eyes down. Saldia wanted to scold Henny but she wouldn’t dare try it in front of the Gypsy.

  Kal chuckled and Saldia scowled at her, but the stranger was watching Henny. “You tell her, girl.” She chuckled again.

  “What?” Henny protested. “I didn’t say anything.” She eyed Haranda nervously and looked as though she might weep.

  “You don’t have to say it for me to hear,” Kal said. “I told you I hear voices. Voices of anyone I’m near. It was fairly quiet around here until you six showed up.” She said something in a language Saldia didn’t recognize but it sounded like a curse. “Your minds are louder than I’m used to.” She focused on Haranda. “Except for you. I can’t hear anything from you, Gypsy. I already knew who the rest were before you told me, but I like to hear whether people’s mouths match their thoughts. I hate being lied to.”

  Saldia couldn’t fault the girl that, but she didn’t much like the idea of someone knowing her thoughts. Many days in her life, her thoughts had been the only things she had owned.

  Maesa wrapped arms around herself as if to hide and kept sharp eyes on Kal. “You can hear our thoughts?” In fact, she looked like an anxious bird about ready to take wing.

  Haranda stepped to Kal and asked to touch her. The girl agreed, though somewhat reluctantly. She flinched when the Gypsy took her hands. “I sensed your Energy when we arrived, Kal. You’re Gypsy folk, Gypsy kin, like the rest of us. From what you’ve told me, I believe your Energy is that of a listener.”

  “My mother called it a gift. There’s nothing bloody gifted about it.” Her hands went to her temples and she grimaced. Again, she cursed in what was probably her native tongue. “Do all of you have to think so loud?” Her eyes pleaded with Haranda. “Can you help me shut out the voices?”

  The Gypsy took the girl’s chin in her fingers. “I can teach you what I know. But we need to get to the Land of the Goddess where you can receive proper training. You’ll come with us, youngling.”

  From Haranda’s tone, that last statement wasn’t up for debate. The Gypsy meant to get them to this Land of the Goddess whether they agreed to go or not. And Haranda hadn’t said why, but it felt important. Saldia wondered just how powerful the Gypsy was and remembered the urging Haranda had used to get her out of Makrilon and the invisible smacks she often used to quell arguments. That youngling term still peaked Saldia’s curiosity and she wondered just what it entailed besides referring to youth. There had to be more to it, since Saldia was nearly as old as Haranda.

  Kal seemed to compose herself and she straightened. “Do any of you know how to use a weapon?”

  Eletha pulled a slingshot from her breeches pocket and held it up. Several leaves fell to the floor and she bent to retrieve them.

  Saldia shook her head that a grown woman would stuff her pockets like a little boy.

  But Kal smiled and nodded to Eletha. Haranda placed a hand on her own belt knife and Saldia was surprised she hadn’t noticed it as a weapon before now. She’d simply thought the Gypsy used it as most women used knives, for cutting food or thread or whatever else needed a sharp edge.

  “How about the rest of you?” Kal said. “That’s what I thought. Where is this Goddess place?”

  “We’re going to the shore,” Henny said just before she shot a frightened look at Haranda.

  Haranda ignored the outburst this time.

  Saldia quelled a huff. Keep us guessing, Gypsy. If we’re unsure of you, you’ll have that much more power. Kal eyed her and heat creep up her neck. No one was supposed to hear another’s thoughts, but the way Kal smiled, there was no doubt the girl heard. Blazes! If only I could watch without being seen. Or heard! Haranda’s dark eyes fell on her but she forced a level gaze at the Gypsy. I won’t be intimidated. Although she felt like covering herself.

  Kal nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.

  “Oh, you’re here,” a voice chimed from the doorway.

  Saldia turned to see an old woman wearing a dirty apron. She wore her hair pulled back into a bun and wisps of gray floated around her face. Her teeth were slightly crooked, and despite her age, sharp eyes looked as though they never missed much.

  After hugging Haranda, she introduced herself as Mistress Flindering. “No boys this time? Well, that’s probably for the best. Come. Come. I have baths and beds ready for you. You ate at Mistress Lane’s, right? Yes, good.”

  She took Saldia’s arm and gently pushed her toward the door then ushered the rest into the hallway behind her. Once all of them were in the hallway, there was barely enough room for the old woman, but she squeezed through the group and led them outside near a roaring fire pit. Here, three large tubs glistened with water. Towels and soap bars lay on the edges of each.

  “Three of you can bathe at a time,” Mistress Flindering instructed. “Then you must get to bed. You have a long ride ahead of you tomorrow and you need sleep.”

  Eletha stepped to her. “I’ll go up to bed now. Bathing too much causes illness.”

  The old woman glanced at Haranda and the Gypsy crossed her arms.

  “You can go first.” Mistress Flindering latched onto Eletha’s arm, her mild manner suddenly gone. “I’ll wash you myself if I have to.”

  Eletha’s face grew dark and Saldia braced for the little woman’s temper. “I’m not a bloody child!” She snatched her arm from the woman, dipped her small hands into one of the tubs, and spread water over her face, neck and behind her ears. “I’m washed now. Besides, these baths are for fancy girls. With that smell, I’d be tracked and eaten by wolves before I could plow a rock into a rabbit’s skull.”

  Adelsik, Maesa and Henny made sounds of disgust.

  Mistress Flindering wasn’t to be deterred. She pulled to her full height, which was quite a bit taller than Eletha. “I won’t have dirty bodies in my clean beds. You can remove your clothes or Haranda and I will do it for you.”

  From the look Haranda gave Eletha as she stepped close, this had happened before. “Your choice.” After a moment, the Gypsy reached for Eletha’s tunic.

  The little woman stepped back and chanted, “Quick hand, watchful eye, my pride is yours, but only twice.” Her face grew sullen but she began untying the laces of her tunic.

  “I’ll bathe last,” Haranda said with a pleased look on her face. “I have some things to discuss with you, M
istress Flindering.”

  “Oh, yes, Gypsy Haranda. I expected you would.”

  “This one requires a foot soak.” Haranda motioned to Henny.

  Mistress Flindering chatted on during the bath shifts and gave each of her guests clean undergarments to wear to bed, which Eletha grumbled about. The little woman said she’d rather sleep in her skin than in frilly underclothes, though they were as plain as any Saldia had ever seen. Haranda said it was up to Eletha how she chose to sleep, but she wouldn’t have her clothes back until they’d been washed and dried.

  After Saldia’s bath, Haranda stood behind her and ran fingers through her wet locks just as she’d done for the others. After a slight tingling sensation, her hair was completely dry. Haranda then herded her to bed with the others. The Gypsy asked Kal to remain awake so she could show her how to build a wall. Whatever in blazes that meant.

  There were two rooms waiting for them upstairs, one with three beds, the other crowded with four. Saldia was ordered to share a room with the three highborn girls. When she protested and said Eletha or Kal should take the fourth bed because they were younger, Haranda told her Eletha was likely to start a brawl and she needed Kal close to keep an eye on the girl’s Energy.

  Saldia thought about arguing but she was truly tired. She pushed the night pot under her bed and crawled beneath the covers, thankful for the soft mattress. She fell asleep as she counted her own breaths.

  * * * *

  By morning, she felt rested but took a heartbeat to remember where she was. Over the years, moving had taught her to remain in bed until her mind took in a new place.

  Ah, the Flindering farm.

  Henny, Maesa and Adelsik still slept, but Saldia was used to getting up with the sun. On most occasions, anyway. A few mornings, her hide had paid for tardiness. At that thought, she sat, grateful her legs no longer ached from walking. That would change today. She hadn’t been on a horse in quite a while and would walk slower after a long trip in a saddle.