Farseekers

I Roland shook his head decisively. "I can do nothing to hasten thehealing, Elspeth. If you rested them more often..." I sighed and rubbed the tender soles of my feet. "Kella said a warmer climate might help." Roland nodded absently, returning satchels of herbs to his carry-all. "It's true cold doesn't help the healing process, but whatever miracles healers can do, changing the weather to suit their patient is not among them." I was startled at the unexpected touch of humor from the dour Healer guildmaster. Hefting the weighty bag onto his arm, Roland gave me a piercing look. He added significantly, "If you would stay in your room in wintertime with banked fires instead of wandering around the draughty halls and beyond..." "Iammistress of a guild," I said. Roland was unsympathetic. "Garth finds no difficulty in remaining in his caves and the Teknoguild works do not crumble because of his inactivity," he said with faint asperity. The Teknoguild was concerned with studying the Before-time and researching the effects, past, present and future, of the Great White. I had little interest in such things, but I had met secretly with Garth only that morning. I wondered if Roland knew. "Garth...is Garth," I said with a smile. Roland's lip twitched. There was a knock at the door, and Kella entered carrying a jug. Roland waved his ward in impatiently. "Soak in that, then rub some of the salve into the soles. And stay off your feet!" he growled, slamming the door behind him. Kella poured the liquid in a flat pan, smiling ruefully. "He's angry with himself because your feet aren't healing properly." I lowered my feet gingerly into the shallow panniken. A sweet scent rose from the water. "Herb lore?" I guessed. Kella nodded. "A recipe given us by the Master of Obernewtyn himself." I smiled, never quite able to accept the grandiose title for Rushton. When I had first known him, it was as an enigmatic farm overseer. No one had been more astonished than I to discover he was the legal owner of Obernewtyn. Kella was staring into the fire, its orange glow playing over her cheeks. "Rushton has not come back yet from the highlands," she said, a faint line of worry between her brows. I wondered idly if the healer were attracted to Rushton. It would be a pity for her. His brooding singleness of purpose made him blind to anything but his complicated plans for the future. "It's good to see you smile," Kella said. The old fear of revealing myself caused me a moment of sharp fear, then I consciously relaxed. The need for hiding my expression was past, at least at Obernewtyn. "Yet there is not much to smile at, even here," I said somberly. Kella's expression sharpened. "You spoke to the newcomers?" I nodded. "When I was in the orphan home, torture was nothing more than a rumor." Kella's face was pale. The deliberate infliction of pain was anathema to any healer, but torture was doubly dreadful, being both mental and physical pain forged into one. She disliked the mind-bending activities of the Coercer guild, but this was far worse. As if reading my thoughts, she said, "Miryum claims there are times when the end justifies the means, but even a coercer could not condone torture." Tactless Miryum was guilden of the aggressive Coercer guild, whose function was to defend Obernewtyn and prepare for battle with the Council, if it should come to that. There was a growing rift between Healer and Coercer guilds. WheCarmody, Isobelle is the author of 'Farseekers' with ISBN 9780765342713 and ISBN 0765342715.