Pursued - Entire book

Chapter 40

Klair he sat up in the back of the wagon as the sharp bit of briny air assaulted him.

Old man Revnock, who he'd met two days ago, drew the creaky old transport to a stop. Klair would still be stuck on the road had not the two, Revnock and his granddaughter, happened upon him.

The girl, a mere five year old stared at Klair as he faced the ocean.

The brilliant blue-green with waves broke on the rocky shore. Klair remembered the city only vaguely as he and his mother had left Mirvass city when he was six.

"Are you alright on your own, boy?"

Klair carefully climbed down, using a long branch for support. A twinge raced up his spine as his injured foot touched down. "I'm okay now that I'm home," he answered.

"Where's your remaining family?" Revnock prodded.

Klair shifted in his stance. Interesting how it gets easier to tell a lie. "Our home is near city center. I must report my father's death to the Elders. I'll go there now." From his shoulders, he withdrew the cloak the merchant in Koova gave him. He offered it to Revnock. "Thank you for helping me."

He could have been dead by now had these two not shown compassion.

The old man looked at the cloak and nodded. He took it and dropped it behind the seat of his wagon. "A nice cloak. Work hard, boy, your mother will need you all the more with your father gone."

"I will."

Klair was glad when the members of a caravan happened upon him during their stop for the night. Revnock's granddaughter had found Klair at a rarely used campsite. It took two days to reach the coastal city. The ride provided time for Klair's foot to heal. The city of Mirvass was as good as any other place to end up.

Revnock grunted, snapped the reins on his old mare and the wagon moved off. The others caravan members in their carts waved farewell. Klair stood on the side of the street watching them as they continued out of the city.

The street consisted of tough, rocky dirt. The buildings on the streets were not as aligned as neatly as other villages. The top soil had washed away long ago.

His stomach growled.

How could he pay for food or lodging? Could he persuade someone to take him in? Nine years he and his mother had lived here. Perhaps he would see if he could do some apprentice work for any local weavers, now he had acquired the skill.

*****

"What can you do but sit?" the woman demanded.

Klair frowned, anger rising, but he fought for calm. "I've been trained by Nallock of Koova," he said.

"We'll see." Though her voice depicted doubt, he saw she recognized the name. She glanced at the braids about his head, but made no comment about their lack of apprenticeship. She led him to the back room of the mat shop. The dusty room was dimly lit, by a single sputtering candle and no windows, but shelves of mats and loose branches and vine. She pointed to a dry pile of refuse.

"Make something of that and we'll see," she challenged.

Klair's mind raced. What did Nallock tell me to do with webbing that's too dry? After a brief hesitation, Klair asked, "I'll need Sofa solution."

The woman studied him for a moment. "Maybe you know something after all." Instead of giving him the solution she pointed to a fresher stack of willows. "Use those she waved at a pile of fresh willow. "I don't waste Sofa on refuse."

He nodded.

She waved a hand to him. She added in a gentler voice. "Do the mats well. We might give you a six-day of work, less pay and we'll include room and board. That'll give your foot time to heal, with proper treatment."

Klair nodded. "Thank you."

"I'm Licee," she said, binding the contract with her name and a knock on a table.

"I am Klair." He knocked his knuckles on the table in response.

She nodded, leaving him to his labor.

*****

By the end of the six-day Klair walked without his stick. He limped slightly but he found he didn't need as much rest as before. Being a weaver gave him ample time for healing while still working.

Licee smiled at him as he came out of the back room. "Done already?"

"Yes."

"You're still determined to move on?"

Klair nodded, tempted to create another fabrication, but his mother wouldn't have approved. He remained vague. Only hindsight told him MeTherion must have been Seiun. He must have waited in the tavern to see who would, by chance, show up. Klair met the age requirement if not the hair. I betrayed myself by using magic. He spent so much of his life hiding his magic that it was difficult to use it intentionally, only by instinct did it come easily. With the pursuit of Seiun and Kapawn, he must not settle too long in one place.

Now he was in better health, he would backtrack through the forest and start again for Petta. A brief image of Maken's map came to mind. He remembered that the city of Ronta was near Petta. It had a pin. It wouldn't hurt to check it out.

A food parcel waited for him on the front table tied snugly with vine cord. "For your travels," she offered. "Visit when you're in Mirvass again."

Klair noted the thick sleeping blanket added to the parcel. He smiled.

For all her pretense of being a hard heart, Licee showed extreme kindness to a stranger.

When I come again, I'll visit," he promised.