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No. I m not. And I m not a healer, either. I know something about it, and
if you can stay off that leg& much& for a while, it should heal straight.
Must be a Black devil& stead of a White one.
Yes, if you want to put it that way, Justen admitted. I am from
Recluce.
Why ye bother with old Lurles?
I needed food, and you needed help. Justen silently damned himself for
being honest with the old blind woman, but somehow it was important to him, if
to no one else, not to deceive her.
You could have left me.
Not after I knew you were hurt.
Why do you need food?
I was separated from my brother in the fighting, and I was trying to get
to the river where I could cross, but the bridges were gone at Rohm. I was
hoping I could get across near here, but I missed the river road somehow.
Wizardry, most likely. There be a three-way fork at Rohrn-the two bridges
and the road long the river. But -there be no fords till the bridge at
Clynya. It s a deep gorge most places there. You take the by path from here,
and it climbs and climbs, not that it be so noticeable& only when you be
tired.
Justen mechanically refilled her mug and offered it back to her.
There s bread and cheese in the hole by the serving table.
Are you sure?
You smell like an honest fellow. You talk like an honest fellow, and you
act like one. I be wrong before, and be wrong again. That be life. She
laughed, and despite the blackened and missing teeth, Justen could see that
once she must have been a pretty girl. He swallowed, set the pitcher down, and
walked to the serving table.
Several old loaves of bread remained in the hole, as well as two large
blocks of hard yellow cheese, each wrapped in wax. One had been opened and
roughly resealed. He took that lump and one loaf, replacing the stone before
straightening.
How many slices of cheese and bread would you like?
My, and being served cheese in my own bed by a young fellow yet& Another
laugh followed. One thick one.
Justen sliced three slices of each-all of them thick-and set them on a
wooden platter that he carried back to the corner. After easing one slab of
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cheese onto a thick slice of bread, he took the mug from Lurles and placed the
bread and cheese in her fingers. He eased back onto the stool.
Strong fingers-like a smith s. You be a smith?
Yes. I work with the forge.
Good. Never be knowing a bad smith. Lurles s words came between
mouthfuls.
The bread and cheese tasted far better than any meal Jus-ten could
remember-at least any recent one.
You fixed the well rope so I can get water?
You shouldn t& he mumbled through another mouthful of bread and cheese.
Bother. You be a Black smith, and you can t be staying here. Not if you
want to live. This stuff ye put on my leg- how long do I keep it there?
I d guess four to five eight-days. But it will be a season before it s
really healed.
Bother that.
Stay off it as much as you can or it will break again. Justen swallowed
the last of the second slab of bread and cheese, amazed that he had eaten it
all so quickly.
You men& Lurles reached outward, and Justen refilled the mug and handed
it to her. She drained the mug and bent down to set it on the floor.
You sound as though you believe in the Legend.
Bother the Legend. Look at Birsen.
Justen cleared his throat. Finally, he added, The rope at the well didn t
break&
The bucket dropped into the water. I heard that.
The rope was cut almost all the way through. I brought back the top
piece. He walked over to the table and reclaimed the rope, bringing it to the
older woman and placing it in her hands. He watched as her deft fingers
explored the hemp.
Have to do something about that boy.
Boy?
Birsen. Just a big, selfish boy. Lurles levered herself around slightly
in the bed, wincing at the movement. Told Firla he was too good-looking. So
was Tomaz. Be ye good-looking, young fellow?
Ah& I never thought about it. My brother was the goodlooking one.
Men& sure and you thought it. You be plenty fair, an my word on it.
Lurles grinned. Now& I be fine, and best ye be going afore those White devils
catch up to ye.
How& but what about you?
You be not able to take me, be ye? If you fill the water buckets, I be
able to rest here. She laughed. No White devils trouble themselves with folk
this poor.
I ll take care of the water.
And take the other block of cheese and a loaf.
You need it.
And you be not in need? Healing my leg and tending me, worthless as I be,
be worth something, my fine young Black fellow.
Justen shrugged and grinned as he picked up the two small water pitchers
and headed out through the rain. The mare whinnied as he hauled up the well
bucket.
I know. You re probably hungry, too. Back inside, he wiped the rain off
his face and hair, then set the pitchers down. The water s on the table. Do
you need anything else?
Nay. She paused. There be a smidgeon of grain in a small cask behind the
post in the near corner of the barn. For your horse.
If it wouldn t be too much a loss, a little would help.
Young fellow& I can t recall ye to Firla knowing not your name.
Justen. It s Justen.
Then be off with ye. You spent enough time with a old woman.
Justen touched her forehead lightly, offering a small flow of order, hoping
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it would help.
You sure no Temple priest ye be?
No Temple priest. Just a lost smith of sorts.
Get the bread and cheese, and the grain, and be off with ye now.
Justen took the remainder of the cheese that he had already cut-about half
the size of the block that remained- and one loaf, leaving two. He swallowed
as he took a last look at Lurles from the door.
I be fine. Off with ye!
He closed the door quietly and firmly and went to look for the grain for
the mare. The rain had dropped off to a fine, drizzling mist.
LII
The path, as Lurles had predicted, turned and twisted on a gentle slope, so
gentle that Justen was surprised when he looked back over his shoulder that he
could see the eastern fork of the River Sarron winding southeast, away from
Rohm. The slight curve of the hill blocked his view of Rohrn and the junction
of the rivers.
Justen searched for the hovel, but could see only a thatched roof. He hoped
that Lurles would be all right. He took a deep breath and turned, just in time
to duck under an overhanging branch as the path wound back toward the south.
Had this been a mistake? Probably, but as far as he had gone, wouldn t it
be even worse to try to retrace his steps?
Still, the ride was somehow oppressive.
The few hovels and the one larger holding he had passed were shuttered and
still, although he had the feeling that the larger holding had not been
abandoned, but fortified, and he had ridden around it.
The dreams bothered him, especially the second one with the same woman, and
the same clarity, and the same message- of sorts. The first one had been about
the trees, the second about Naclos. Who knew much about Naclos, except that it
was the home of the druids, who supposedly had something to do with trees?
Sometimes wonderful cargoes of wood came from Diehl, the one port in Naclos,
and sometimes people talked about the druids. But no one knew very much about
them& yet he was having dreams about a beautiful druid.
Yee-ahh. A vulcrow called from a pile of weed-tangled stones heaped in a
corner of a meadow that had once, perhaps, been tilled.
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