by Cat Bruno
The two of them walked toward the front of the large, open room, and they each grabbed trays before continuing. When both of their trays were filled, Kennet’s appearing empty next to Bronwen’s, whose was covered with several dishes, Kennet followed as she led him to open chairs away from the crowded center of the room. Even though the two were not spending as much time together, he still knew her habits and, especially now, understood her desire for privacy, she knew.
She noticed him eying her tray, an odd look in his eyes. When his bespectacled gaze lifted, focusing on her growing chest, Bronwen blushed.
“ Is it so obvious then?” she asked.
It was his turn to blush, yet he stuttered, “Perhaps only to those of us who know you well.”
Nodding in reply, she listened as he added, “I have read much over the last moon about the Tribe. While there is little about children born to them, from what I now know, I don’t think you will suffer much. No more than with an ordinary babe.”
Looking around the room to make sure that none were close enough to hear, Kennet leaned closer to her and said, “There is much more written about the Rexterran royal line, which, as you might know, is also a god-touched one, if the stories are to be believed. Would you care to hear about what I have learned?”
Without hesitation, Bronwen answered, “Yes, everything you can recall.”
Kennet had found a detailed description of the early days of Cordisian history, outlining how the god of fire, Sarturo, had seduced a mortal woman, appearing to her at first as a blazing star streaking across the sky, then landing at her feet as a man with hair the color of ashes and eyes that shifted between red, orange, and yellow. His fingers sparked as he caressed the girl’s skin, the story had said, yet she did not scar or burn from his touch. When he took to the sky, again in a non-human form, she crumbled to the ground, shielding her eyes from the fire that trailed after him, brightening all that it touched and burning hot as he rose. When he was gone, only a flickering star once again in the sky, the woman rose, awe-struck and in love, and at once feeling the trickle of a flame pulsing inside of her. When the child was born, his eyes were rimmed in gold and his hair had traces of gray and white mixed in with his dark curls.
All of this he told to Bronwen, who listened with wide eyes.
While Kennet had read the story with some skepticism, which he admitted to her, he could not deny the look of several Rexterrans, including Master Ammon, who often had graying hair yet wrinkle-free skin. They were blessed with fire-rimmed eyes and had powers that all envied, though they often kept them well-hidden. But, what interested him most, he told her, was that by all accounts the children of such a mating were normal, with no ill effects. Instead, they were gifted with long life and mage-skill, or something akin to mage-skill.
“For many generations, Rexterrans of the royal line have mated with what one might call normal women or men, and little ill effect has resulted. The children might be less mage-skilled, but there are many of them regardless,” he concluded.
“Like Pietro,” she laughed.
“Let us not compare your daughter to him!” Kennet laughed in return.
*****
He watched her as she ate, enjoying the time with her as it reminded Kennet how things had once been between them. Of late, his extra time had been spent reading as much about the Tribe and the early days of Cordisia as he could. And while he knew that peace now existed between the Tribe and the rest of Cordisia, he also knew that it had not always been that way. Nor would it always stay that way, he thought. Her daughter would be between both, he had soon realized, although he kept those thoughts from her.
Many nights, long after the moon had risen and the library had been abandoned, Kennet could be found studying the Tribe, Rexterran politics, mage-craft, even warfare. Yet, what concerned him most were the Light-Keepers, though few knew of them, and even fewer could claim to be one. The more he learned of them, the more he worried. Generations before, the group had been founded to monitor and watch the Tribe, serving as defenders of a sort for Cordisia. Some of the most talented mages were secret Light-Keepers, despite the truce between mage and Tribe.
Yet, Kennet told Bronwen none of what he had learned.
When Kennet had still not yet taken a bite of the food that was on his tray, Bronwen tapped his arm, rousing him from his thoughts, and asked, “Is there something amiss? You have been staring at that wall for far too long.”
He wiped at his face, tucking his fingers in behind his spectacles, then pushing them back into place before responding, “Oh, Bronwen, it is nothing. Only my worries for you, and I know that you would no sooner hear about them than you would hear about Pietro spending nearly all of his time trailing after a few members of the Master Council.”
Bronwen raised her eyebrows, “Actually, I would very much like to hear about Pietro. It would be amusing to hear about how he now plans on getting my position. Who is it that he follows?”
“Well, I have seen him with Masters Pollock and Black. And I have heard that he spends more time with Rova too.”
“For what reasons do you think?” Bronwen asked.
“Oh, who knows what he plans. He has distanced himself from me of late, and well, I have little time between my studies, the translations needed, and Louissia as well,” Kennet added, looking to his full tray as he did so, even though he knew it would be no surprise to Bronwen that he spent so much time with Louissia.
“I just do not trust him, Kennet, and neither should you,” Bronwen replied, grabbing another large chunk of cheese.
As she chewed, she asked, “So what has been happening with Louissia? She has not tired of you yet?”
Smiling, he distracted himself with a slice of ham, cutting at it with a dull knife. Then he said, “She visits me often. My work used to quite bore her, but, of late, she has taken more of an interest in it and has surprised me with her knowledge and skill.”
“Kenny, if your feelings for this girl are that strong, then I must make more of an effort to get to know her. I am feeling much recovered, and soon we must all three get together, perhaps for dinner. Mayhap at the inn where she works.”
“I think that might be just what is needed. I will let you know when she is free,” he answered, pleased at the thought.
“Gods, you have not eaten a thing, and I have finished nearly everything, except these buttered oats, which even I cannot stomach,” she said, laughing.
They were both still laughing when Kennet eyed Sheva, approaching them from the back of the hall.
In a whisper, he said, “Sheva is coming over.”
Across from him, Bronwen paled, the laughter gone, and she mumbled, “Act as if nothing has changed.”
Kennet watched as the woman reached for Bronwen, hugging her shoulders, and said, “I have not seen you here in half a moon I would wager. Nor have you been to the cottage much.”
Releasing Bronwen, she added, “I daresay something has gotten into you, Bronwen, and do not tell me that you have been busy!”
The tone of Sheva’s voice changed, and Kennet felt his cheeks burn as he listened to Sheva chastise her daughter. He watched as Bronwen dropped her head, her fiery hair hanging loosely across her face, although he could see her eyes blazing still.
“Bronwen, have you met someone? That would certainly explain your absence. And please do not think that you can fool me into thinking it is Kennet. I will not fall for that again,” Sheva continued.
Kennet blushed deeper as he waited to see how Bronwen would respond. Her face was as pale as sun-bleached stone, and as unmoving as well, as if she were frozen in place. For a long moment, nothing was said. When she finally answered, he felt the little food he had eaten churn in his stomach.
“Yes, mother, I have met someone. But, it is not as simple as I would like it to be, and I do not want to talk about it quite yet. Please understand that I am not trying to fool you, only trying to figure out for myself what all this means. You will know as soon as I un
derstand it all myself.”
Her voice had been steady, much more so than he knew his would be, and her words true ones, again surprising him.
Sheva sighed, “Oh, Bronwen, what has gotten into you? You were never one to behave like those silly women who flutter and chirp over some boy! Yet, I suppose even a trained healer has a right to find some companionship as well as any other. Is there nothing you will tell me about this boy?”
Kennet’s stomach gurgled loudly, and he reached for a mug of water, sipping at it, trying not to think of Conri as some normal Litusian boy.
Bronwen laughed aloud, “Oh, Sheva, I do not even know if it will last, but if it does, you will be next to meet him. I must hurry, as I usually don’t even stop long enough to have the evening meal. I have much to finish before sunup.”
Rising from her seat, Bronwen kissed Sheva on the brow and reached for her tray. Not wanting to be alone with Sheva, Kennet, hurried to follow. Neither looked back, nor did they speak a word of what had just been said. Instead, they just hurried on, walking past the gazes of the few remaining healers and out into the darkening sky.
When they were a good distance from the dining hall, Bronwen slowed her step and exhaled, loudly and deeply, as if she had been holding the same breath for the entire walk.
Shaking her head, she exclaimed, “I just lied to the woman who has done nothing but love and care for me for the last ten moon years! And, already I can tell that my body is changing. Look here,” she said, pulling her robe tight across his mid-section, until Kennet’s eyes were staring at where she had indicated, “do you not see how my stomach is beginning to round over? How much longer can I hide what is happening? I have tried to refrain from eating much, but I cannot control my hunger. And the cravings are strange! Once I think of something, it is as if my mind is no longer my own.”
Much more relaxed, he asked, “Have you not heard the same complaint from many a woman at the clinic, Bronwen?” She stopped, reaching for his arm, and answered, “The other day all I could think of was a bloody chunk of meat. I nearly walked into town to the butcher’s to ask him for such!”
Hastily, she added, “Oh don’t look at me like that. You know more than most about the Tribe. Tell me, do you think what I have described is normal? Have you found any information that you think I should know?”
They had resumed walking, yet Kennet’s heart raced as if he and Bronwen had just ran from the dining hall to the edge of the residential quarters, where they now stood.
Finally, he nervously answered, “Bronwen, sometimes knowledge is best left hidden. You are with child, a god-touched one. You must expect your thoughts to often not be entirely your own.”
“But what if I change so much that others notice? What if once it is obvious that I am with child, the Master Council asks to know of the father?” she asked, emotion filling her words.
Suddenly, he recalled a conversation he had overheard, and grabbed Bronwen’s arm, “I have an idea that I would like for you to hear, one that I should have mentioned before now. Somehow the thought escaped me, but I think we must discuss it at once.”
When Bronwen started to reply, he pulled her toward her rooms, and said nothing until they were behind the warded door.
Once inside, he said, “There have been rumors hinting that the Rexterran king is seriously ailing, perhaps even near death, although it would be long before his time. Within the last few days, several masters have visited Master Tywinne in his office. I must admit that, on one occasion, my curiosity bettered me, and I listened as they discussed the king’s health and what possibly could be harming him in such a way. And it seems that word has been sent seeking experienced healers to travel to Rexterra to serve the king. Yet, it all must remain quiet, as the Rexterran people have not been made aware of the king’s declining health.”
He continued, “Bronwen, do you not understand what this means? Within days, the Master Council will meet to decide how to respond. There is little doubt that they will then send a healer or a few healers, as the Academy has long been indebted to the throne. Do not forget that whomever they send must travel in secrecy, or at least arrive in such, to keep word of the king’s illness from spreading. Bronwen, what better healer to send than you? First, little is known about you outside of Litusia. Second, very few would suspect someone with your looks to be such a talented healer. And, of course, I do not think that I need to explain to you how the timing for this trip suits your own needs as well.”
Bronwen sat hard on her cot, falling into it so quickly that Kennet thought she might be ill. But, when he rushed over to her, she lifted a hand and gasped, “Could it be so easy? I am need of a Healer Journey, as well. I could leave before any knew of the babe.”
As much as it pained him, Kennet knew that she must leave, and soon, or her future, the one that she had planned and worked for since the day that he had first met her, would be forever altered. If she could convince the Master Council to let her begin her Healer Journey, she could still be Master Healer, even once the babe was born.
“I think it is the only way to keep the your secrets safe, Bronwen. Although it will not be as easy as you think to travel on foot when you are with child,” Kennet said, remembering that a Healer Journey was often long and arduous.
Her eyes were bright as she countered, “I must do it, Kenny. If what you say is true, then I must be the one they send. My Healer Journey will require me to be gone for a full moon year, giving me time to have the babe. And, as you say, none will know me as aught but a healer as I travel. I must convince Master Rova that it is I who they should send!”
Dropping down beside her, Kennet exclaimed, “Bronwen, we must find a way! If you stay here, your condition will be known, within a few moons, I would imagine, and then what? No, you must leave here and head to Rexterra. And, truly, if there is anyone who might be able to heal King Herrin, then it would be you. If you offer, I cannot believe that the Master Council would not approve.”
“But, my condition, as you keep calling it, will be just as evident once I arrive in Rexterra, Kennet! Then what?”
Shaking his head and causing his spectacles to slide down his nose until he pushed them back up with the tip of his finger, Kennet replied, “I do not know. Not yet. But surely we can figure something out. The first step must be getting you away from here.”
“Let’s go to Willem’s. Aldric or he will have some answers,” Bronwen interrupted, jumping from the bed.
He was about to argue, but she was already out the door, calling out to him, under a darkening sky, “I must leave for the King’s City as soon as possible. Already, I feel as if I look to be with child.”
They hurried from her rooms, unaware of the woman who trailed them.
*****
When the two had disappeared far enough down the path, Louissia slowed. Breathing hard, she wiped at her face and pulled her bodice from her chest, where it stuck to wet skin. Around her, the sky was dark and cool, yet she had had to run to keep up with Kennet as he and the healer left the Academy grounds. It had been by chance that she had found him at all, spotting him from a distance because of his height and metal-rimmed glasses. But he hadn’t seen her, and just as she was about to call out to him, she had heard a woman’s voice.
When the clouds shifted and the light of the silver moon cast down, she recognized Bronwen’s flame-tinged hair. And said nothing. Instead, Louissia had crept quietly off the sandy path, hiding behind a row of flowering bushes. As the two hurried away, she listened, suddenly realizing what Kennet must have meant about Bronwen and her condition. Placing a hand over her mouth to muffle her surprised gasp, she had waited until the two were far enough away that she could follow without being seen.
For as long as she could, Louissia trailed the two, yet when they neared the beach, she stopped, breathing hard and trying to make sense of what she had heard. After her breathing slowed, she walked back to the Academy, and toward Pietro’s rooms.
Gently tapping on his door
, she stepped back as it swung open, partly in fear. Pietro was like no one she had ever met before, and each time she saw him, she blushed to the edges of her dark hairline, remembering what had happened between them. She still had not known exactly what had occurred, but his touch had ignited something in her, and while she remembered most, there were gaps in her memory. The next day, Louissia had been unable to rise from her bed, sore and swollen, and she had begged Talia to tell her father that she was ill. Her cousin had looked at her crossly, but had done so, and Louissia spent the day abed.
Saying nothing, Pietro grabbed her hand and half-dragged her into his room, kicking the door closed behind him. He looked flushed, with small beads of sweat dotting the top of his forehead. More afraid now, she backed away from him, bumping into the back of the door, and dragging him with her. But, before she could turn to leave, he released her arm and crossed the room. When he returned, he carried a jug of wine, the sweet smell filling the room as he lifted it to his mouth.
With stained lips and shining eyes, he said, “Have you come for another go?”
Hotly, she retorted, “I have learned something about Bronwen that I think you would like to know!”
Waving his hand, he called, “I’m tired of the girl and wish she had never come here at all.”
She knew he was drunk on the wine as she watched him take another large swig, yet still Louissia said, “Then I shall make you happy twice over. She has plans to leave the Academy. I heard her say as much with my own ears.”
When he said nothing, she stepped toward him and cried, “Did you hear me, Pietro?”
Finally, he Pietro sputtered, “How do you know what she plans? And I swear, wench, if you are lying, I will burn you!”
Louissia backed away hurriedly before his could grab for her again, knowing that his words were not empty threats. He could hurt her, badly, if he so wished, she remembered.
Quickly, she answered, “I overheard her speaking with Kennet when they did not know I was there. They kept talking about her ‘condition,’ and how soon she would not be able to hide it. I have heard the same complaint from many women back home. It means she is with child, Pietro. I followed them and I heard her talk about going to the King’s City. To heal the ailing king.”
