Page 47 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
The fountain continued its endless cascade beside them, throwing tiny droplets that sparkled in the artificial light. Tamira was absurdly grateful for its presence and the white noise that might grant them a small measure of privacy for their first conversation.
"Your English is quite good," she said, steering them to safer ground. "Where did you learn it?"
"Here and there," he said with a slight shrug. "I've traveled extensively, and English has become the common tongue of commerce and education. It seemed practical to master it."
"Practical," she repeated, smiling. "You're a practical man, then?"
"I try to be." He glanced at her book again. "Though I suppose a shaman can't call himself practical without sounding like a hypocrite."
"Why not? The gift of healing seems very practical to me."
"Some would say that mixing herbs and offering spiritual guidance is the opposite of practical. They'd prefer their medicine in pill form and their spirits firmly ignored."
"These people haven't lived long enough to see the patterns," Tamira said. "The wheel of belief that turns from mysticism to materialism and back again. Give humanity a few more millennia, and they'll rediscover what they've forgotten about the connection between body and spirit."
"You seem to be speaking from experience?"
She sighed. "No, not from experience. From learning. This current age of technology makes a good case for the material world." She tapped her book. "But then they write things like this, trying to rediscover magic through willpower and positive thinking."
"Do you believe in the power of manifestation?"
She considered the question. "Perhaps. I was practicing it when you appeared. Willing you to come out to the garden, and you did."
His eyebrows rose. "Should I feel flattered?"
"I was curious."
His smile was warm and slightly teasing. "I came out because I was restless in my new quarters and wanted to check out the inner garden, not because I felt a mystical summons."
"Ah, but how do you know that restlessness wasn't the mechanism of my manifestation? Perhaps I didn't summon you directly but created the conditions that led you here."
"That's dangerous philosophy," he said, but his tone was light. "If you can claim credit for any coincidence by saying you manifested the circumstances that led to it, then you can never be proven wrong."
"Exactly," she said, matching his playful tone. "It's a perfect belief system. All successes are proofs of this method working, and all failures are just evidence that I didn't believe hard enough."
"Two very convincing arguments that absolve the author from liability."
They both laughed, and Tamira felt something ease in her chest. How long had it been since she'd had a conversation like this? One that danced between serious and playful, that challenged her thoughts without becoming a battle of wits worn smooth by repetition?
"I saw your garden when we walked past it the other day," she said. "It looked well-tended. That's when I noticed you."
He looked embarrassed. "I apologize for the pose I had to assume. It was humiliating."
"Don't apologize." She reached out with her hand to cover his. "That was what you were expected to do. Besides, I enjoyed gazing upon the body part that was most prominently displayed. It was very nicely shaped."
Color rose in his cheeks, which was adorable. "Should I say thank you for the compliment?"
She shrugged. "I just call it like I see it." She needed to move away from the topic of his nicely shaped bottom. "Anyway, when my friends and I passed by your herb garden, we wondered ifyou had anything that could help soothe the burns Rolenna gets from her glassmaking experiments. Immortals heal quickly, but we are not immune to pain, and she could use a salve if you can make it."
"I have several preparations that might help. Aloe, of course, but also calendula infused in oil, and a salve made from comfrey and plantain."
"That's wonderful. Rolenna is rather accident-prone, so you might want to prepare a large batch for her."
"I'll be more than happy to do so. It's good to be useful."
There was something in the way he said it that tugged at her. She recognized the feeling—the need to have purpose in a purposeless existence, to contribute something meaningful to the small world they inhabited.
"The servants speak highly of your remedies. And now that you're free to interact with us, I suspect you'll find yourself very much in demand."
