Part 28 (1/2)
”Is Fasra there?”
”No.”
”Oh. I thought she was. Could you get me a bit of water, Voin dear?”
I looked around and saw a gla.s.s pitcher full of clear water nearby.
”I hope this is safe,” I said, picking up the pitcher. ”How do I ... ?”
”Just pour it through the mouth of the jar like last time,” the old woman's voice said. ”Thank you, dear.”
I poured a little water through the mouth of the jar, and after a moment the old woman said, ”That's fine! That's enough! Thank you so very much, dear little, um what's-your-name.”
”Are you thirsty?” I asked. ”Can I help you out of the jar somehow?”
”Oh, I never drink or eat-that's a function of the antideath spell. I just needed a little water for a focus. Morlock is not very strong on the watermagics, poor fellow, and I'm trying to teach him a little, but I have the d.a.m.ndest time trying to remember them myself.”
”Should you be doing magic if your memory is failing?” I asked, a little alarmed.
She laughed wheezily and said, ”Oh dear! Oh my dear! Who said my memory was failing?”
”You did.”
”You made that up!” she said accusingly. ”You are always making things up! I've had occasion to warn you about that before, young lady!”
”We just met,” I pointed out hopelessly.
Silence. Then, wearily: ”I'm sorry. Most of me is missing, you see, and my memory is really not very good. It comes and it goes.”
”I don't suppose-” I began, and broke off. It had occurred to me that she might be Aurelius's wife, the one he claimed Morlock was trying to kill. But there didn't seem to be any use in asking her a question I was having trouble even putting into words.
”Never suppose, my dear. Supposing makes a sup of pos and ing.”
”What?”
”Did I say it wrong? It was supposed to be funny. I must have said it wrong. Anyway, you can only ask, my dear. If I know, and can remember, I'll answer. I've become very fond of you, Fasra dear, in my way.”
I was going to ask her how she knew Fasra, then, but I decided I had more chance of a straight answer from Fasra herself. ”Do you know an old man named Aurelius?” I asked.
”Aurelius? Aurelius Ambrosius?”
”Maybe,” I said slowly. ”His surname might be Ambrosius.”
”Oh my dear! Oh my dear! I may not be the freshest buzzard in the flock, but I'm not old enough to have known Aurelius Ambrosius! He died fighting against the Saxons before I was born! At least,” her quavering voice lost its brief burst of confidence, ”I think he did.”
”Maybe it was someone else?”
”Maybe who was someone else? I'm not following you, dear. Anyway, now that Fasra has finally brought me some water, I think I'll try fas.h.i.+oning my water-focus. Is Morlock there?”
”No.”
”That's right. That's right. They were going to go somewhere and talk about poor Naeli without that silly old woman interrupting them. How I wish she would shut up, sometimes! Because so often it turns out I'm the only one in the room.”
”Um. Good-bye, then.”
”What?” the old woman's voice squawked. ”Who's there? Oh, thank G.o.d, they brought me a little water. Maybe I should try making a waterfocus......
I sneaked away, shushed the flames as they tried to banter with me, and fled the workshop.
I was feeling kind of light-headed-had since I left Aurelius, in fact, and I wandered around the house a little without thinking of anything in partic ular. When I looked up I was in the big room we had made our refectory. Fasra and Reijka were sitting at the table, looking at me solemnly.
”h.e.l.lo there,” I said, a little bolder than I felt. ”How goes the letter writing?”
”Oh, Mama,” said Fasra, and she got up and ran to me. ”Oh, Mama,” she said weepily, burying her face in my chest as she wrapped her arms around me.
”What is all this?” I asked, amazed. ”What's wrong, honey?”
”Nothing,” she said, raising her wet, darkly luminous eyes to meet mine. ”Nothing. Oh, Mama.”
Reijka had risen, too, and her cool green eyes seemed to measure me. ”Maybe we'd better have a look at you, Naeli,” she said. ”I never really got a chance to examine you. The other day,” she added significantly.
”The other-” I choked off what I was about to say. I didn't like the way this sounded. ”All right,” I added, finally. ”Let's go to my room. Fasra-”
”No-I've got to-I'm going to tell the boys.”
”Tell them what exactly?”
”Oh-nothing!” She flashed me a grin and fled out the far door of the room.
Reijka walked in easy silence alongside me until we were in my room.
”I'd like to know what this is all about,” I said.
”I'd like to look you over before I answer,” the physician replied.
I pulled off my gown. I noted sourly that my wounds were somewhat more healed than they had been when I last looked at them-this morning, or so it seemed to me.
Reijka looked me over and spent an unusually long stretch of time staring into my eyes. Then she said, ”All right, sit down on the bed and tell me something.”
”I want someone to tell me something.”
”Oblige your healer.”
”What is it?”
She held up the gown I had been wearing. ”Was this the dress you put on this morning?”
”It-no.”
”Show me the dress you last remember wearing.”