Pursued - Entire book

Chapter 27

The next morning, Klair and Poral rushed through Koova's market, baskets loaded, from nearly buying out all of Gram's herbs as well as some from others. "We need every kind," Klair told the forester, walking briskly, while the other hurried after. "How are the others doing?" Both nearly sprinted in their eagerness, encouraged having a new course of action.

Poral's voice was as animated as Klair's. "We distributed the lists this morning; everything should be collected by tomorrow morning."

Klair paused and Poral followed his gaze to the mat weaver working alone at his wagon.

With an understanding nod, Poral took the baskets and left him to approach his prior mentor alone. When Nallock looked up from piling another bundle of willows on his lap he saw Klair standing before him. His face blossomed into a smile.

Klair returned it easily and without thought, he bounded onto the wagon and grabbed the man into a firm embrace.

Nallock paused in shock. "Of all the things, I hadn't expected that."

Klair blushed.

They both sat down in the bed of the wagon, willows forgotten. A customer approached them and Nallock waved him away.

"Merimee told me what happened. So you're a Kapawn Seedling."

Klair shrugged. "Born one, but I don't plan to apprentice to them."

"Why ever not? The girl said you put on quite a show until things turned ugly. Now you're working for Poral instead." His former partner raised a hand against Klair's objection. "He's a good man, mind you, invited to be an elder of the city a few times but he keeps turning them down. Doesn't want to be stuck in a bunch of assemblies... Not that I could blame him,

Terree..., felt the same way when she was Eldress. I just wondered what happened."

Klair shrugged and grabbed a willow and only when Nallock started laughing at him did he realized he'd started weaving a mat. His face turned hot. "Old habits."

He put the willow down and after a moment, picked it up again and began to weave.

"They thought I was a Seiun spy." He admitted.

"When you told me about Strands and I saw one with Merimee I thought I had the perfect solution. Just pretend to be a Strand and do some good at parlor tricks. I could earn money to get Mom away from the north and any potential Fist attack. I wouldn't have to hide my magic."

He grimaced.

"Apparently I'm not very subtle. They guessed right off I wasn't a Strand. They accused me of being a spy and messing up things on the Seiun's behalf. Poral got me arrested. I have to prove to him I'm not Seiun and we've got to take care of—"

"—some other things." I'm not the one to warn the people. Kerrida is right; no time is a good time. His companion listened quietly, making Klair realize, I miss our talks.

"Will you come back here, once you've earned the silver?"

Klair shook his head. "No, I'm heading to Petta eventually. There is a wood crafter there named Bejja who I want to—" He suddenly stopped, not realizing the idea waited in the back of his mind since leaving Merrsain. Had that been his intent eve since leaving home? "I want to be a wood carver under Bejja." He looked into Nallock's eyes. "Thank you for your willingness to apprentice me."

The weaver nodded. "I'm sad to see you go, but I'm glad we've talked again."

Klair rested his hands on the pile of willows liking the soft flesh beneath his touch and remembering their bobbing stalks against the breeze. "I'm surprised Merimee didn't stay to witness I wasn't a spy."

"She thought you might be."

"What?"

"The girl said you refused to talk much about yourself or your past so she felt you were hiding something. Her mother lived in Logan city a long time ago. You described it in such vague terms. As soon as Poral accused you of being a Seedling under Seiun employ, she..." The man shrugged his shoulders and picked up a partially made mat and continued weaving.

"I can understand that you wanted privacy. You looked in a pretty rough state when I first met you. I assumed you left home under bad circumstances so I offered you a job." His gaze met Klair's.

"I thought that when you're ready, you'd tell me."

"I got banned from Merrsain," Klair admitted.

"So you fibbed when you said you were from Logan?"

Klair hesitated, lowering his head, "Yeah."

Nallock voice hardened. "Lies can corrupt a man, Klair. Don't get in the habit. I advise against it."

His mother was his moral compass... now the weaver took a turn.

Klair studied the ground, mute.

The weaver's tone softened. "After learning about what happened at market, hearing who you are, I started putting things together." Nallock leaned forward tapping Klair's stomach. "I'm told that your belly button can identify whose son you are, should we—"

Klair shoved his friend's hand away. "No!"

Nallock grinned and started to reach a second time only to be rebuffed. He obviously enjoyed the chance to tease Klair and making him blush.

"I have a question?"

The weaver turned serious again.

Klair leaned closer though no one was standing near. He picked up a couple of the dryer reeds that his previous mentor had discarded. They were slightly crunchy beneath his touch. Could the way that Nallock treated plants for weaving be of any help in combatting the worm? "You said we can refresh a dry reed for better weaving. It can absorb the moisture through its skin." His eyes centered on his attentive friend...

"How?"