The Mask of Tamirella Page 5

  Her quick eyes focused on Marjordan but the woman was asleep. She studied her primary a moment, knowing that the woman’s mate had been killed in a battle when Cait was just a small child. He’d been a warrior like Ian and Whit. Marjordan had never chosen another. She seemed content to live in her brother’s house and help care for Cait, whose mother, Gracejan, had died from infection soon after childbirth. She had been a finder like Hendrake and the two were on a dig when Cait was born nearly a month early.

  Evidently, Grace had been a very persuasive woman and had convinced Marjordan that she would be fine. Since the two were as close as blood sisters, Marjordan gave in and stayed behind to tend to her other patients. Caitlanna Mullen was born two days before her parents were to return home. The dig healer couldn’t stop the infection and Grace was dead by the time word reached Marjordan.

  Cait suspected her primary felt guilt for a long time, perhaps still, for not being there. Since that time, Marjordan took absolutely no risks with her patients. She held the reputation as the toughest healer in the entire Mountain Sanction.

  The fire popped and Cait focused on her duties again, peering at the nearby woodpile. The waning moon crept toward the horizon and she kept her gaze on it for a time. Her father had taught her to calculate the stars when she was a young child but the moon was much easier to see, especially with a fire next to her. Rarely did she need a keyclock.

  When her watch was up, she put another log on the fire and quietly awakened Whithelen. The warrior nudged her toward her blankets and she fell asleep to thoughts of Quin and the forbidden feelings she had for him.

  Chapter 7

  The Dig Site

  The group reached the Southern Mountains by late afternoon the next day. Trees to the north, a lake to the south and sparse grassy areas made up the place. Blue skies overhead made the sun glare off the water. Cait could see the cave opening from here and she longed to get to work. A warrior from the site met them as they rode closer. Ian halted the group, while he and Whit rode to greet the man. They spoke for a moment before Ian motioned the others to follow.

  Cait urged Graypony to the campsite. She’d expected a large group but saw only two people, both females, sitting near a fire just outside the cave. One looked to be a striker about her age. The group dismounted and the warriors took the horses to where five others stood grazing on nearby grasses. Five horses meant five people. A small group for such an important dig. Two pack mules as tall as the horses stood nearby, their long ears flicking insects.

  “Which of you is the healer?” A woman took long strides toward Cait’s group. Her blonde hair hung in a long, frazzled braid down her back. Brown eyes peered from under a worn straw hat. Her dirty tunic and leggings had several tears around the elbows and knees.

  Cait’s primary stepped forward to greet the woman. “I’m Healer Marjordan.”

  “I’m Finder Jenellen. Sorry to put you to work so soon but our healer was killed in a cave-in rescue and we have an injured striker.” Jenellen stood only as tall as the healer’s nose but her countenance was that of a leader.

  Marjordan nodded and called Ian. The man sprinted at her beckon. “I need my medicines.”

  “Yes, Healer.” He trotted toward the horses.

  “Take me to the patient,” she said to Jenellen.

  “This way.” The finder turned and started toward a tree, where a makeshift tent had been set up using blankets.

  “Come with me, Cait,” Marjordan added.

  She obediently followed her primary. When they reached the tent, a boy about her age lay on blankets on the ground. Someone had splinted his leg and tied his left arm up in a sling. A gash along his forehead had been stitched. His shoulder length, tawny hair was matted to his head and his face glistened with sweat.

  “Healer?” Ian held Marjordan’s medicine bag out for her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let me know if you need any help.”

  Marjordan nodded and the warrior left. She slipped her sword from her back and placed it on the ground just outside the tent then hung her straw hat on a tree limb. Cait did the same and knelt with her primary beside the boy.

  “What happened?” Marjordan rummaged through her bag.

  “He was caught in the cave-in.” Jenellen knelt on the other side of the prone patient. “His leg is broken and I think his arm is sprained. I cleaned out the head wound and stitched it as best I could.”

  Marjordan inspected the splint and the cut. “You did a fine job. You should’ve become a healer.”

  “Well, that’s not really for me. My father was a healer and I assisted him sometimes.”

  Suddenly, the boy moaned and stirred, rolling his head side to side. Marjordan placed a brief hand on his moving forehead and then checked his pulse. “I need to see his eyes.”

  The finder nodded, scooted to the boy’s lolling head, and held it still.

  Marjordan pulled his eyelids up and concentrated for a moment. “What’s his name?”

  “Samcoty.”

  “Any other injuries?” Her deft hands probed the boy’s body.

  “Not that I could find.”

  “Cait, boil some water for me. And have someone bring fresh rags.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She left her sword and hurried toward the fire. “The healer needs water boiled,” she said to the girl sitting on a stool.

  The girl twirled the end of her light brown braid between her fingers. “Already started.” One hand motioned to a metal rack over the flames that held a dented metal pot. When she stood, she was slightly taller than Cait.

  “The healer will need washing water, too.”

  The girl retrieved a bucket. “Come with me?” Cait followed her to a small lake. “I’m Natjulie from M37,” she said as she bent down to fill the bucket. “I’m a striker.” Her sun-streaked hair caught the light as she moved. She wore no hat and her small nose had the beginnings of a nasty sunburn. Marjordan wouldn’t like that.

  “I’m Caitlanna. M3.” She wasn’t sure just how much these people knew about the Elders’ ruling so she decided not to give up too much information. M37 was much closer to this dig than M3, and farther south, which meant they didn’t have to travel through Rotted City to get here, so she doubted these people were here as punishment.

  “You’re the one who found the other Mask, right?” Natjulie stood with the dripping bucket and turned to Caitlanna. Her brown eyes were flecked with green.

  “You know about that?” Cait tried to keep the amazement from her voice. News about her find had traveled quickly.

  “Paulucas, he’s my brother and primary.” She motioned to a man standing with the two warriors. Cait took hold of the bucket handle and the two girls carried it between them toward camp. “Lucas is the one who rode to the Elders and told them about the cave-in.”

  Cait studied the man. He looked familiar. His cropped hair was the same color brown as Natjulie’s braid. He looked tall and had the muscular build of a warrior. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen him before.

  “They sent him back after your sentencing and said you were coming to help us. He’s a finder and a warrior.” Natjulie offered a prideful look.

  “Wow. That’s rare.” And it was rare for anyone to hold two titles. Then she remembered seeing Paulucas. He was the other warrior she’d noticed at her sentencing. Part of her was embarrassed that these strangers knew so much about her. She remembered something else. “Wait.” She stopped the girl with a hand on her arm. “Did you say earlier, that I’d found the other Mask?” The sun must have addled her brain not to catch that sooner.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “Know what? There’s only one Mask of Tamirella.” The girl must’ve been talking of some other artifact.

  “Actually, there are others.” After reaching camp, the two placed the bucket on the ground, and Natjulie sat on a stool. “An archaeologist from M112 found one.”

  “That can’t be.” Cait wondered why the Elders hadn�
�t mentioned that at her sentencing. Her father had searched a very long time for the Mask—there had been only one that he knew of. Her heart raced as she soaked in the news. She sat and focused on the girl.

  “That’s what we thought, too. But there’s supposed to be one in this cave and the Elders want us to find it. Too many people believe the Mask is cursed and renders its finders with dangerous luck. Lucas, Sam and I were the only ones from our sub-sanction to take the Elder’s offer. They said it’s a rich site. We don’t believe in the curse but we knew this dig was dangerous.” Natjulie’s eyes fell on the tent then moved to the left. “Healer Adelbonni was killed.”

  Cait glanced the direction of Natjulie’s gaze. Movement near some trees caught her eyes and she saw the warriors inspecting a mound of stones, a grave. She turned her attention back to the girl, whose clothes had more dirt than dust. “Were you in the cave-in?”

  “No.” Natjulie motioned to the makeshift tent. “We take turns because the dig area is still too small for more than a single person.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I hope your healer can mend Sam. He has a fever, and I heard Finder Jenellen say that his wound could get infected out here. She knows a little about medicines but she’s not a healer.”

  Cait nodded. People on digs worked so closely together that they often became like family. Her heart went out to this girl. “My primary’s one of the best healers.”

  “Then I’m sure Sam will be fine.” A smile touched the girl’s lips but Cait could tell it was forced.

  “Caitlanna!” Marjordan called in an impatient voice. “Where is that water!”

  “Coming, P-Marj!” She turned an expectant face to the other girl. “I don’t suppose you can boil water faster than that.”

  The girl shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile. “It’s almost done. But if it’ll help, I’ll let her be mad at me.”

  Cait chuckled. “She’s not angry. Just impatient. Trust me, you’d know if she was angry.”

  Natjulie glanced at the tent. “Not to be crossed, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t advise it.”

  The two girls laughed softly, and Cait guessed it was probably the first time Natjulie had relaxed since the cave-in.

  After a moment, the girl peered into the pot. “Bubbles. It should be hot enough, now.”

  “I’ll take it.” Cait retrieved a worn towel from a nearby rock and wrapped it around the pot, lifting it from the rack. “Rags,” she said, suddenly remembering what else Marjordan had asked for.

  “I’ll get some. Go ahead.” Natjulie started toward the others, who were now tending the horses and mules.

  “Thanks.” She made her way to the tent, careful not to spill the water. “P-Marj?”

  “Put it there,” Marjordan pointed to a small wooden crate.

  She set the pot on the crate next to a cup and two metal spoons. The towel didn’t seem like much protection once she’d carried the water to the tent, and she was relieved to have the hot thing out of her hands.

  “Here are the rags, Healer,” Natjulie said. “We’ll have to wash the others if you need more.”

  Marjordan stood and took the small pile from the girl. “This will be fine for now but I’ll need more tomorrow.”

  “How is he?” Natjulie stared past her to Samcoty.

  The healer studied the girl. “His injuries are fairly minor. It’s the fever we have to worry about. The longer he has it, the more stress it puts on his body.”

  At that moment, Natjulie broke into tears and Marjordan pulled her into an embrace. She led the girl to a stool and helped her down. Then she pulled another stool over and sat next to her.

  Jenellen held a cup and crossed to the pot of water. She scooped the hot liquid into the cup and carried it to Marjordan. “I’ll stay with her, Healer.” After she gave the cup to Marjordan, she took her place next to the sobbing girl.

  Cait felt a bit awkward watching Natjulie cry so she focused on the injured boy. He was quiet now.

  “I need your help, Cait,” Marjordan said. “Get some fever herb from my stash.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She rummaged through her primary’s bag until she found the dried, yellow herb.

  Marjordan crumbled some into the cup of water and stirred it with a beat up metal spoon. “Prop his head on your lap and hold his mouth open.”

  Cait did as she was told. His body felt hot even through her leggings. She watched as her primary dipped the spoon into the medicine, allowed it to cool, then slowly spooned the liquid into her patient. He swallowed most of it, though some ran out the sides of his mouth.

  After the third spoonful, he opened dull, gray eyes and stared up into Caitlanna’s face. “Nat?”

  The girl immediately came to his side and sniffed back tears. “I’m here, Sam.” She took his hand.

  When he closed his eyes again, Nat gave Marjordan a startled look.

  “He’s fine,” the healer assured her. “His body’s still fighting the fever but he knows you’re here.” She covered the girl’s hand briefly with her own. “That’s a good sign.” She smiled.

  Natjulie nodded and gave the healer a tiny smile. She wiped at her wet face with the back of her arm, spreading more dirt on her nose and cheeks.

  “Healer?” Jenellen said. “If you don’t need me anymore, I should start nighmeal.”

  “Of course. I think everyone is calm now.”

  The finder left.

  “Help with nighmeal, Cait.” Marjordan gave her a tired look. “Sam needs to sleep. There’s not much else to be done except wait.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cait stood and glanced at Natjulie.

  “I’d like to stay.” The girl took the end of her braid in her fingers. Then she looked at the healer. “If that’s all right.”

  Marjordan nodded. “That’s fine.”

  As she made her way to the fire, Caitlanna noticed that the others had dispersed. Whit was at the fire with Jenellen. The men walked toward the lake and she watched Quin’s back as he disappeared behind some tall shrubbery.

  Whit cleared her throat, and Cait gave the warrior a startled look. “You think you can keep your mind here long enough to help with nighmeal?”

  “I was just, well, I—“ But she couldn’t think of anything to say to the woman. She just stood there trying desperately to force the heat from her face.

  “Yes.” Whithelen’s black eyes glistened. “I know exactly what you were doing. I was sixteen just a few years ago, remember?” Cait nodded. The warrior stepped to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Quin won’t violate Marjordan’s trust. Or sanction laws.”

  That put her more at ease to talk about her feelings. “What if he doesn’t wait for me, Whit? I’ve got three years before I’m full-grown.”

  “Well, if he loves you, he’ll wait.”

  “And if he finds someone else?”

  “Would you want a man who doesn’t want you back?”

  Cait glanced at the lake. “I guess not.”

  “I’ve known you since you were born, Caitlanna Mullen. And I’ve always felt very sisterly toward you. I’ll be watching you and Quin so don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  She started to protest Whithelen’s protective nature, but the warning look made her decide against it. Part of her wondered if Marjordan had discussed the situation with the warrior. She couldn’t chance any disrespectful behavior getting back to her primary, not about this. And she didn’t want to get Quin in trouble. Sanction laws were very strict about relations between full-growns and those younger. Cait would escape severe punishment but not Quin. He could be beaten and exiled, which could lead to death since other sanctions didn’t accept full-grown offenders. Unless the outcast could find a group to admit him, dagbeasts, harsh weather, starvation or mutants would take him.

  “I’ll be careful,” Caitlanna finally said.

  The warrior relaxed. “You’ll make a very fine full-grown.” Whit patted her on the back a couple of times then turned to the fire.

&nb
sp; Cait forced her attention on nighmeal. She and the other women took their baths in the lake after the men returned to watch Samcoty and the cooking food. After the group ate, Cait sat near the fire combing her hair and listened to instructions about the next day’s dig. Her eyes occasionally fell on Quin but he didn’t seem to notice. Marjordan and Whithelen, on the other hand, did.

  Chapter 8

  Strikers and Finders

  Caitlanna’s first shift came and she stood anxiously inside the cave, waiting for her orders. Dirt and rock made up the area with rough walls that had seen centuries pass. What were once tunnels to some other part of the cave, had been victims of cave-ins probably from an era long before Cait’s birth. The entire group could easily fit in this area, though. Natjulie backed out of the tunnel that had been dug through one of the ancient cave-ins then stepped to the ground and stretched. The tortoise shell hat sat crookedly on her head and her face had streaks of sweaty dirt. She held a burnt-out lamp in one hand, and the bag over her shoulder sagged slightly with the weight of treasures.

  Finder Jenellen took the bag, passed it to Nat’s brother and said, “Striker Caitlanna, take the protective hat. You’ll go in next and continue widening the site and collect any artifacts.”

  Cait heard these instructions the previous night but she allowed the finder to repeat them without protest.

  “Hopefully,” Jen continued, “we can widen it enough over the next couple days to get at least two workers in at one time.” She placed her hands on Cait’s shoulders. She was younger than Marjordan, but lines around her eyes and mouth revealed a lot of time spent in the sun. “Be extra careful in there. We don’t want anyone else caught in a cave-in. As you can see, this site has had many over the past centuries. Keep to the marked areas and if you feel any earth movement whatsoever, you get your backside out of there immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Finder.”

  “I mean this, Cait. I know all about your disregard for rules when you found the other Mask. We all do. And I will not have stupidity on my dig.”