Page 24 of The Lost Guard's Healer

The dog gets spooked and finally darts out of the hut.

The Shanti People really know how to make strong wine. I take a while to find my clothes and get dressed. As I pull on my sleeveless shirt, I realize my legs haven’t been bothering me. I don’t think I can push myself too much, but it’s a relief to not have any irritation or weakness in my movements.

The light is temporarily blinding when I leave the hut, with the sun a good way up the sky. Most of the village is already awake.

Several of the sister wives are at the main campfire in the center of the field, busy making what smells like a morning brew. The smoky aroma is drifting in the air and helping me wake up.

I stretch my lower back and greet the late morning sun, taking in the bird songs and low chatter of the mingling villagers. The short woman with the auburn hair, Magdalena, is standing between two of the tents, locked in a close conversation with two men. The oldest of them is Yovin, the old man who had told me I’d been brought to their village for a great purpose. The other is tall and robust, maybe a little older than me, with white streaks on the sides of his dark hair. I think his name is Colm. The three of them seem to be having a private, serious talk about something, tucked away in the shade between the tents. They notice me and disperse, their stern expressions softening into casual indifference and innocent smiles. I have to wonder what that had been about.

“You survived the festival,” a familiar voice says.

I turn to see Leila walking through the field. She’s wearing a faded brown apron, matching her long skirt that is swishing along the ground. A bowl of dark beans is in her hands. A friendly smile on her face greets me.

“I’m surprised, myself,” I say. “You Shanti People certainly hold your liquor better than any Oathlander.”

“Outsiders just don’t have our constitution,” she says with a smile and a wink. Her friendliness feels nice and is very welcome, especially compared to the scolding hatred I get from her sister. Her sister, who I have to fight to keep from looking around for now that I’ve thought of her.

I nod toward the bowl in her hands. “That’s right. You’re a sister wife?”

“Technically, yes,” Leila says. “Although I don’t partake in their activities as much as I should. Jonah and Milo take up too much of my time for that. I do what I can to be helpful, though.” She pauses and gives me a mischievous grin, like I’ve missed a joke. “You were seen last night, you know.”

I raise a brow. “I was seen?”

“Oh, yes, you were. With Wini Semassi. Out behind the tents.”

I let out a weary sigh.

Leila chuckles. “How did it go?”

“Nothing went,” I quickly respond, my mood souring. “Nothing happened. And she was very annoyed about that.”

Leila nods. “That sounds like our Wini. Well, you did the right thing. She’s certainly nothing but trouble.” She regards me for a moment and seems to approve of what she sees. “I’m impressed, Tarin. Few men can refuse the charms and curves of Wini Semassi.”

“I’m sure I’ll regret it,” I say, wondering how obvious my sarcasm is. “So… who saw us?”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Why? Are you worried my sister saw you?”

My face drops. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Leila chuckles lightly, enjoying herself. “Nothing. It was Abby Don’Dallen who had noticed the two of you sneaking around. She’s not one for spreading gossip, I promise. Abby only told me as a friend, knowing about your association with our family, so your secret is safe. Don’t worry, Galene doesn’t know.”

I frown in confusion. “I’m sure I don’t care what your sister knows or doesn’t know. I was only wondering if I would develop a reputation around here. I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong impression of me. Your people have been very kind to me, and I wouldn’t want to tarnish that.”

She has that appraising look in her eyes again. “Want to help us?” She nods towards the sister wives.

I go with her to the campfire and help ladle the morning tea into several mugs. This is the tea they call farro-fan, which has a potent, aromatic kick to it and helps clear away the morning haze. Many people would either be making their own tea, simply not be interested in it, or not be old enough to consume it. But the sister wives cater to the thirty or so people who would be happy to take a mug from them.

Around us, people have begun repairing the broken huts and structures of the village. Several of the hunters and workers are cutting down trees in the distance. A large collection of trunks and branches has been collected and brought over by carts. A group of people are busy carving the wood into beams and poles with expert ease.

Eventually, I can’t help but ask, “Why did you think I’d care if Galene saw? Or if she knew?”

Leila just smiles.

Cryptic. I take a tray with tea mugs and take it around the nearby huts and tents, allowing people to help themselves. The walk around the village is helping to clear my head, as is the heady aroma of the tea.

Around the back of the row of tents, I pass one and see Aldus is inside, speaking with a few people around a table. Wanting to know what they are talking about, I go in with the pretense of asking if they’d like some farro-fan tea.

I recognize Colm, the large man with the white hair at his temples, who had been speaking with Magdalena earlier. The Head Hunter, Bohan, is there with a sour look on his wide face. A stern-looking woman with a pinched expression, her hair up in a tight bun, is sitting beside Colm.

---