Page 3 of MacAlister's Hope
“But she does not have your gift.” The words came out as a growl from between Tavish’s gritted teeth.
Fia could see the man next to him tense, as if ready to do battle, though he had not so much as gestured toward his dirk or his sword. That was when she noticed that he held something in his hand, rolling it in his palm as if he calmed himself with it. She looked up at his face carefully for the first time and realized he was familiar to her, though she could not remember from where she might know him. There was something about his eyes…nay, she could not place him.
Elena tilted her head and smiled, glancing at Fia and drawing Fia’s attention back to the conversation.
“Nay, she does not have the Lamont gift,” Elena agreed, “but she is very talented in her own way, and you do not have a choice. Fia can go with you to tend your chief—your father—” she added pointedly, “and be returned here within a ten day, or you can leave here with a tincture that may or may not be what your father requires.”
Tavish started to respond, when the other man simultaneously reached out and gripped his shoulder, as if to stop him from speaking, and dropped the thing in his hand. Fia watched as a perfectly round, milky stone rolled to rest near Elena’s feet. Fia scooped it up, for Elena could not even bend over these days. She dusted the pretty stone off on her skirt, then held it out for the man but he did not take it from her.
“Do you think you can heal him, Fia?” he asked, saying her name as if he, too, remembered her, though she still could not remember why she knew him.
She looked at Tavish, holding the stone out for him to take as his companion did not seem interested in it anymore. “I do not ken,” she said, needing to be truthful with him and herself, “but I will do my best.” The palest pink whispered along the milky white ribbons within the stone, surprising her even as she heard the other man let out his breath. “But you must promise to have me back here before Elena’s time,” she said, though her eyes were still on the stone that was once again milky white, “whether your father is better or not.”
Elena plucked the stone from Fia’s hand and held it up to the pale sunlight, gazing into it with a bemused look upon her face.
“I believe she can heal him,” Elena said, still gazing into the stone, while pink once more whispered through it. Fia gasped. Elena looked at her for a moment and quirked an eyebrow as if asking if Fia had seen what Elena had. Elena lowered her hand and held the stone out to its owner with a mysterious sort of smile playing over her lips. “’Tis a beautiful stone. It reminds me of a tale I once heard about the Cailleach Bheur, the mother of winter, and a frozen tear that held the truth of her heartache. You should not be so uncareful with it.”
“Aye, my lady,” he said quietly. “I have heard that story, too.” He swallowed and smiled. “I am afraid I have a bad habit of fiddling with it and dropping it betimes,” he added, tucking the stone into a pouch at his belt. “Fia’s skills will be most appreciated.”
Tavish sucked in a loud breath.
“She will do as she says,” the other man said to him, “I am sure of it.”
Tavish said nothing for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. If we cannot have the skill of Lady Elena, we will take Fia with us to tend my da.”
Fia and the other man winced at Tavish’s less than grateful tone.
“And return me in a ten day.” Fia narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She had no intention of budging from Elena’s side without this assurance.
“We promise,” the other man said when Tavish did not. “We are grateful for your help, Fia.”
“We must away immediately,” Tavish said. “There is no time to waste.”
“Not immediately,” Fia said. “Who among you is most likely to be of use in describing your chief’s ailment? I must gather whatever I might need to treat him from my stillroom.”
Tavish and the other man looked at each other. “’Twould likely be me,” the other one said. “Tavish has been occupied with the chief’s tasks since his father took ill. If we’d known you would not be able to come with us, Lady Elena, we would have brought one of the women who has been tending him.”
“Very well,” Elena said. “I shall have Annis pack some things for you, Fia. You shall need an assistant so she shall travel with you. ’Twill be good experience for her.”
Fia almost groaned aloud. Annis was competent, but she was almost as distracted by the lads as Mairi was and she seemed to think she deserved more than the life of a healer, though she took pains to conceal that particular idea from Elena. But Fia knew she could not travel alone, and at least Annis understood what Fia needed, even if she didn’t like the work.
“Make sure Mairi knows how to make the brews for me and take…” Elena looked at the man next to Tavish and for a moment he did not appear to understand what Elena waited for.
“Kieron,” Tavish said for him. “Kieron MacAlister of Kilglashan village.”
“Take Kieron,” Elena said, “with you to the stillroom.”
At his name another tendril of memory tried to open for Fia, but it was not enough. “Come with me,” she said to him as she looked about and found Mairi standing behind her. Fia took her hand and hurried toward the dark opening of the undercroft that sheltered her stillroom, leaving Kieron to follow in their wake.
Chapter Two
That night, after a long afternoon of hard traveling, Kieron watched the women as they arranged their sleeping pallets on the far side of the fire, in the small clearing where Tavish had finally agreed to stop for the night. Their women’s kinsman, Brodie of Kilmartin, made no attempt at subtlety, when he set his own saddle and belongings between the women’s sleeping area and that of the MacAlister men.
Fortunately, they had pushed hard and made good time, so they would arrive at Kilglashan midday tomorrow. The chief needed Fia’s help as quickly as possible, but Kieron worried, too, about his grandmother. He was her only living family and he did not like to leave her alone.
But he could do naught about that tonight.
He pulled his attention back to the clearing, assessing where any threat might come from so they would not be taken unawares. They traveled through the territories of friendly clans, but the fickle winds of politics could change an ally to an enemy in an instant and with no notice, so the MacAlisters did not take any chances. The men would sleep in shifts so someone would always be on watch.
