Talisa took the nuts and squeezed. The nut near her thumb cracked against the other. Mistress took the cracked nut from Talisa and peeled the thin shell, revealing the nutmeat inside. She handed the meat back. “Eat.”
Talisa ate. The nut had a rich flavor, stronger than the nuts that grew in the barony’s orchards.
“Stay here. Eat your fill from this tree. I will return later.”
“Mistress, I am fine. I ate enough fruit this morning.”
Mistress started to turn away, then turned back. “What happens to a person who eats no fruits or vegetables?”
Talisa hesitated. She did not know of anyone who did not eat those. Only in the winter following a poor harvest when such things were scarce. “Oh, the Winter Sickness. A man gets weak. His skin grows blotchy. Eventually, he starts bleeding from the gums.”
“That is so,” Mistress said. “But if a person were to eat only fruit, that too would cause sickness.” She raised a hand, pointing into the deeper wood. “If the lynx tried to eat grass and ivy, it would die. If the deer tried to live only on flesh, it would die. Each must eat that which is natural to it. Men eat many things. Try to eat just one and man sickens and dies.” She plucked another nut and held it out to Talisa. “You do not serve me well to sicken and die. Eat.”
Talisa took the nut, cracked it against the other in her palm, and ate.
“When I send you to give instruction to the people, if they have food, you may eat with them. Do not dawdle, but I will allow the time.”
Talisa bowed. Mistress stood, looking at her. Talisa looked back. Mistress frowned and raised a hand, indicating the tree. Hastily, Talisa plucked another nut and cracked it in her hand.
“I will return,” Mistress said and she was gone.
Finding that she was actually hungry, Talisa ate. When she could eat no more and Mistress still had not returned, she sat leaning against the bole of the tree. After a time, she drifted off to sleep.
“Rise.”
Talisa woke to see Mistress standing, staring at her. “You are fed. You are rested. Good. Come with me.”
Mistress led Talisa to a small ravine. They stopped at a narrow spot in the ravine, where the ground sloped more steeply to either side. A stream ran along the bottom of the ravine, little more than a trickle.
“Treva’s Garden has many streams and brooks,” Mistress said. “But some fish require still water to thrive. I want you to gather rocks. Pile them here, across the stream.” She looked up at the sun, filtering through the trees. “I want a wall, waist high at the middle stretching level to both slopes by sundown.”
“Now, Mistress?”
Mistress nodded. “Now. I will return at sundown.”
Talisa waded into the stream bed. She tried one rock but found it too heavy to lift. A smaller rock broke free. She lifted it and waddled to the narrow spot in the ravine. She dropped the rock where it splashed into the water. She looked up. Mistress was gone.
She went to select another rock.
Talisa’s arms felt like wooden sticks, or maybe lengths of rope for all the strength that remained. She staggered up to the low wall and dropped another rock on it. Her breath coming in short gasps, she splashed to the center of the small stream to check the height of the wall. The water caught behind the dam she was building was only a little more than ankle deep. The water trickled through the gaps between the rocks and did not rise any higher.
The wall reached barely to her knees. She looked up at where the sun shown through the foliage. Too low, both sun and wall. She was not going to succeed.
She wondered what Mistress would do when Talisa failed to complete the wall.
She trudged up the ravine, looking for another rock. She had already collected all the rocks small enough for her to lift that lay close to the wall. Each trip for another took longer than the one before.
Talisa found a rock, roughly the size of her head, and stooped to pick it up. As her fingers touched the rock a rustling at the top of the ravine interrupted her. She stood and turned to face the source. A human figure stood at the lip of the ravine looking down.
“Milady!” Embron called to her. He wore his pack, empty save for the bow stave tucked in its sheath at its side. He half-ran, half-leapt down the slope of the ravine to her side.
“Embron, what are you doing?” Talisa asked. “The Mistress of this place has not given permission to hunt.” She pointed at Embron’s bow. “Do not risk her. I do not know what she would do if we disobey her word but she has magic to come and go in the blink of an eye. I fear her anger would be terrible.”
Embron raised his hands. “I do not hunt. We take only fish and fruit, as she commanded. I merely sense out the land.” He crouched and laid a hand on the rock Talisa had been about to lift. “May I ask...”
“Mistress has set a task for me.” She stooped and wrapped her hands around the sides of the rock. With a grunt, she stood. Embron stood with her, then reached out to grasp the rock. Talisa stepped back, pulling the rock away before he could take it from her. She turned and began to trudge back toward the wall.
“What are you doing, Milady?”
She did not answer. She merely continued her way back to the wall. She dropped the rock on it then turned to head back up the ravine once more.
“Milady, please.”
Talisa stopped. Her back hurt. Her arms hurt. Her legs hurt. She rubbed at her arms, trying to will some strength back into him. “This wall must be waist high by sundown.”
Embron looked at the wall, then up at the sun. “You’ll never do it.”
Talisa sighed. “I must try.”
Embron shook his head. “You’ll never do it.” He set down his pack. “But we might.”
“Embron, no.” Talisa shook her head. “She set this task for me.”
“Your task is my task,” Embron said.
“You forget.” Talisa put a hand on Embron’s shoulder. “I am not your Baroness any longer. I am merely Mistress’s servant.”
“As I am ever yours.” Embron dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “Please, Milady. Let me help.”
Despite herself, Talisa smiled. She reached down and touched his cheek. He tilted his face up to her.
“Please, Milady.”
“Ever my loyal huntsman. I cannot compel you.”
A slight smile played at Embron's lips. “Nor can you compel me to leave.”
Talisa nodded. “So it would seem.”
Shadow hung across the ravine as Talisa placed the last rock on her low wall. Waist high. She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. She felt Embron's hand on her arm, supporting her, as she stood.
“We have done it, Milady,” Embron said.
Talisa nodded. “You had better return to the others before...”
“Before what?” The voice came from the top of the ravine.
Talisa looked up. Mistress stood on the lip of the ravine, leaning on her staff and looking down at them. Talisa could not see Mistress’s expression in the shadows but she knew it was hard. Mistress’s expression was always hard.
“The wall is completed, Mistress,” Talisa said. “Waist high, as you commanded.”
“I gave this task to you,” Mistress said. “I did not say to enlist the aid of others.” Mistress’s staff glowed blue, the light reflecting from her eyes, eyes that bored unblinking into Talisa's.
“Mistress, I...”
Embron drew himself up straight. “She did not enlist my aid, Mistress, she...”
“I am not your mistress.”
Embron opened his mouth, then closed it. He licked his lips. “Forgive my impertinence then. I do not know how to address you.”
“I am the guardian of this place. You may call me Guardian.”
Talisa frowned in thought. She did not know the significance of the names Mistress used, why this name here and that name there, but she knew it was important.
Embron nodded. “My Lady did not enlist my aid, Guardian. I came upon her by chance
as I wandered these woods.”
“Hunting? Without leave?”
“No. I swear it. Merely seeing.”
Mistress nodded. “Very well. Continue your tale.”
Embron licked his lips again. “I came upon My Lady by chance and saw her labors. I begged her to let me help.” He dropped to one knee. “If there is any fault here, it is mine. Let any punishment be mine as well.”
“Embron!” Talisa turned to him. “No.”
Mistress stared down at them for several seconds. “Is it your intent to continue to aid her in her labors?”
“She is my lady.”
Mistress pointed her staff at Talisa. “She is no longer Baroness. She is no more than a servant now.”
“She is my lady.”
“Very well,” Mistress said. “If that is your choice, I will adjust her tasks. You may aid as you see fit. But the tasks are hers. The price for failure, hers.”
Embron lifted his face, his expression belligerent.
Talisa hastened to speak. “I will do as you bid, Mistress. Let the price for failure be mine.”
Mistress nodded. She pointed at Embron. “Return to your people. If you choose, return to this place midday tomorrow.” She next pointed at Talisa. “Come with me.”
Talisa bowed and plodded up the hill.
By the glow of her staff, Mistress led Talisa to a willow. She pointed to one of the branches. "Break this off."
Talisa pulled at the limb but it bent rather than breaking. She laid her right hand on the handle of the knife at her belt. "Mistress, may I..."
Mistress nodded. She touched the limb, where it joined a larger branch. "Cut here, in this direction."
Talisa cut as indicated. The knife bit into the wood, but not clean through. Two more slices and the branch came free.
Mistress looked at the branch. "That should be enough. As we walk, strip off some of the bark. Chew on it."
Talisa used her knife to shave off some of the bark which she popped in her mouth. She grimaced at the taste.
"Endure the bitterness," Mistress said. "When the taste fades, spit the bark out and chew a fresh piece. Continue until you have stripped the branch entirely. The bark will ease the pain you will feel tomorrow. Now, walk with me."
They walked. Talisa continued to chew the bark. At a fallen tree, Mistress stopped and stooped. She held a hand flat on the ground. A squirrel ran out from under the tree onto her hand. Mistress stood and held the squirrel before her face, nose to nose, almost as if they were conferring. A moment later, she bent and lowered her hand. The squirrel scampered into the underbrush.
In time they reached the path by which Talisa and her people had entered the valley.
"The garden ends here," Mistress said. "I go no farther. Climb to the saddle and look, then return here."
Talisa looked up into the darkness, then up at the sky. Clouds blocked the stars, so thick that she could not tell if either moon was in the sky. Outside the circle cast by Mistress's staff all was black. "Mistress?"
Mistress nodded. "Hold out your hand."
Talisa did so. Mistress tapped the end of her staff to Talisa's palm, leaving a ball of light in its wake.
"Now go."
Talisa ascended the slope. As she left Mistress's side, wind started to pluck at her cloak, growing in strength as she journeyed higher. Cold returned, a cold she had forgotten in the warmth of the valley.
She paused for a moment and looked back at the blue glow surrounding Mistress. If she would come no farther, then Talisa could leave. Simply keep walking past the entrance to the valley and not come back. She shook her head. It was a foolish fancy. Not only would she be foresworn, what of her people? If she fled, what vengeance would Mistress wreak on the few who remained of those who had looked to Talisa for protection? Would she fail them? Could she? If Talisa's service was the price of their safety, could she withhold it?
Of course not.
At the saddle between two peaks, the entrance to the valley, she saw a fierce storm beyond. If Mistress forced her people out into that, they would never survive. The storm, seen by the light in her hand, revealed even more that her fancy of leaving was no more than illusion.
She watched the storm for a moment, shivering, before the cold drove her to turn and stumble back down the slope where Mistress awaited her.
"You have seen?" Mistress asked.
"A fierce storm," Talisa said. "Cold, wind, snow."
"Winter marches on outside Treva's garden," Mistress said. "Here, all is gentle, an early summer that never ends. Springs and sufficient rain for the plants. Animals eat plants. Other animals eat those that eat plants so that they do not grow too numerous. All is in balance. Times of flowering, and of birthing, are their own, not tied to the outer seasons. Do you understand this?"
"No, Mistress."
Mistress nodded. "You will. For now, your shelter is that way." She pointed with her staff. "Return to it and rest."
That night, Talisa dreamed that she was a dog. She whined, hungry. The human pack leader was gone. The humans had food. Her mouth watered at the smell of fish, but no one gave her any. As the last of the humans drifted off to sleep, she crouched low and slunk toward the fire. The smell drew her. A stick. It smelled of fish. She licked at it, then took it between her teeth and drew it back.
She gnawed on the stick. It smelled and tasted of fish and felt good between her teeth but it did not fill her belly.
The wind shifted. She lifted her muzzle and sniffed.
Food.
She crept out of the circle of humans, following the scent. Slowly, silently, she crept. There. In the shadows, she spotted it. A ground squirrel, nibbling on something.
A quick dash and she sprang. Her teeth closed on the squirrel's body. It had time to squeal once before her teeth tore into its flesh. Hot blood filled her mouth.
Holding the squirrel carcass in her mouth she trotted into the underbrush. She found a hollow under a bush and lay within it. She pinned the body under her forepaws and rent at its fur with her teeth. Soon she tore succulent flesh.
The squirrel devoured, she laid her head on her paws and rested. Still hungry, although her belly did not hurt so. She sniffed. Perhaps there was other food to find.
And so Talisa's new life continued. Each morning, Mistress sent her to the camp to give instruction to her people. Afterward, Mistress instructed her on plants and animals. In the afternoon she labored. Clay for the dam, so that it would hold water. Bending the branches of a tree, without harming it, so that sunlight would reach a particular sapling. Moving forest litter from this patch of ground to that.
Ever at her side in her labors, Embron, the huntsman. And always the dreams. Each night something different, this night an owl, a rat for its meal; that night a mouse, barely avoiding an owl's talons. Another time a deer, struck down by an arrow. How strange to greet Embron the next morning, and accept a spit of venison for her breakfast.
Outside the valley, the seasons progressed. Winter gave way to spring, to summer.
One day, after her labors Mistress led Talisa deep into the wood. She stopped before a mighty ash tree.
Mistress pointed to a spot on the ground. "Sit here."
Talisa sat.
Mistress stood in front of Talisa and looked down at her. "I have watched you perform the tasks I gave you and I am not entirely displeased."
"Thank you, Mistress, I..."
Mistress held up a hand. "Nevertheless I want you to sit here and think."
"Think, Mistress? About what?"
"About nothing. And about everything." She stepped aside and raised her staff to point at the ash. "Look at this tree. Watch it. Listen to it."
"Watch the tree, Mistress? May I ask why?"
"Because I command it. You need no other reason."
"And may I ask how long?"
"Until I come for you."
Talisa nodded and settled herself to look up at the tree. She opened her mouth to ask Mistress another qu
estion but Mistress was gone.
Talisa watched. A breeze rustled the leaves of the ash.
As evening wore away into night, the setting sun painted the ash in red and orange. A nightingale, a solitary male, settled into the branches of the tree. The sky purpled, then grew black. The lonely song of the nightingale danced through the woods. The branches of the ash groaned at a passing wind.
Talisa watched. Near dawn, an owl settled on a branch of the ash for a moment, then flapped silently into the sky.
The sun rose. The ash whispered with each passing breath of air. Its branches creaked as the sun's light warmed them. Spots of light frolicked on the ground between the shadows of its leaves.
Sunset once more. A gentle rain fell, drops sparkling in the fading sunlight as they dripped from the ash. Each drop gave voice as they struck the giant. Talisa scarce noted how her rain soaked clothing clung to her skin.
Talisa watched. Another dawn. A morning breeze singing through the ash, a song as clear as words, the joy of sun, a greeting for the new day, as the ash stretched out to receive its light.
"What do you hear?"
Talisa turned her eyes from the ash tree at last to see Mistress standing beside her. "The ash!" she said in wonder. "It sings."
Mistress smiled. "So it does. Now rise. You have labors to do."
Talisa stood. As she followed Mistress she looked at the wood with new eyes. Each plant she knew, as she had not known it before. Here, an herb that mixed with bread would strengthen a man against hardship. There, a plant whose fibers could be spun into cords of surpassing strength. She knew. She did not know how she knew, but she did.
So as she walked, Talisa watched.
“Awaken, servant!”
Talisa woke. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. A dim morning, with the sun filtered by clouds, greeted her. She gave Mistress a questioning look. At Mistress’s nod Talisa plucked enough hazelnuts to fill her belt pouch. She took two and cracked one against the other in her hand and began to munch on the kernel.
Mistress stood and looked into the distance. “The abominations move in this direction.”
Treva's Children Page 3
