Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

66

Matei and Mhera's conversation bled into late morning. At the lunch hour, they walked back into the settlement so that Matei could wash and change his clothes.

Mhera waited outside the council house for him, but no sooner had Matei finished than Uachi and Sashta arrived. After them came Oreon, the man Matei had put in charge of the roster of the dead. Ignoring Mhera, the three of them went into the council house, closing the door behind them.

Matei put his head out the door a moment later. "I'm needed here for a while, Mhera," he said. "Will you come in?"

"No. I'll go," she said.

The rebel hesitated, looking doubtful. His face said, Can you?

There it was: words unspoken passed between them as they had when they were children. Mhera did not have to reply to him; she simply nodded her head. The shock of Matei's revelation was fading. Whatever confusion and unhappiness had been left in its wake were there to be dealt with in time. She felt no urgent anger, no desperate fear. There was, once again, an uneasy peace between them.

As Mhera walked back toward the infirmary, she passed a welcome sight: children playing. She watched as the little girl from her vision scampered along the road, laughing and swinging a stick. Behind her came a boy not much her senior with a stick of his own. Seeing them, Mhera remembered her childhood, those years so long ago when she had had a best friend in Koreti and had never dreamed what her life would become.

The girl was alive. She was safe, and Mhera was glad.

When she reached the infirmary, Aun was coming out the door, a bucket in each hand. She looked harried.

"Do you need water?" Mhera asked. "I will get it."

"Oh, thank you, Mhera. I've been changing bandages—I could use your help."

"How is ...?"

"He's doing well," Aun said with a smile. "There is still a lot of pain, but he makes a peaceful patient. He has asked for you."

Mhera smiled. "I'll be back in a moment to see him."

The well was not far away. As she walked, Mhera breathed the scent of the forest, of the earth. She had never smelled anything like this place, so green and vibrant. Now that the battle was over, it was peaceful.

Mhera drew the first bucket of water. As she set it aside, she caught a glimpse of her reflection silhouetted against the brilliant sky in the surface of the water. And, for an instant, she saw the flicker of another face.

She turned her head to look behind her. There was no one there.

Not now, Mhera thought. Please, not now.

She took a moment to calm her nerves before tying the rope to the second bucket and lowering it down. She heard the distant sound of the bucket slapping the surface of the water deep inside the well. She began to haul the bucket up hand over hand. Trying not to look into it, she brought the bucket to rest on the ledge of the well, but she missed her mark. The bucket tipped; water sloshed and splashed her clothes. She snatched it before it could fall and, by mistake, she glanced into the shadowed water within.

This time, it was as if something within the secret world of the Sight took hold of her mind and wrenched her deep into the vision in an instant. She had no time to think, no time to close her eyes. The urge to See was too strong. It was more than an urge; it was an instinct, something she could not fight.

It is the emperor. It is the emperor's face. His eyes are dark and gleaming. In them, I see the light of a blazing fire, as if it burns somehow deep inside of him. There is a voice—I know not who speaks, but he is familiar to me. "The old woman lives—for now."