Part 68 (2/2)
He thought about his father, sitting under Tinnean's tree, contemplating death. Perhaps he should find a tree. One with a view of Eagles Mount. And just sit there until the end came. A slow death, but a peaceful one. And then he remembered his father's plea: ”Death is easy. It's living that's hard. But as long as there are those who love you, it's worth the struggle.” ”Death is easy. It's living that's hard. But as long as there are those who love you, it's worth the struggle.”
”I don't know,” he finally said. ”I guess I'll just have to figure it out as I go along.”
”Well, that's a p.i.s.s-poor plan.”
”I know. Sorry.”
” 'Figure it out as I go along.' G.o.ds, Keirith.”
”Sorry!”
Conn sighed. ”Is there anything I can do?”
”This is good. Just . . . talking. Like normal.”
”Do you . . . do you want to tell me about it? What happened? You don't have to. I can understand if you don't want to.”
”I don't. But you're my milk-brother. You should know.”
Griane directed the preparations. Choosing what to take was easy; they had little enough in the way of possessions. Packing them was another matter.
Darak left once, to visit Sanok and to inform Nionik of their decision. ”Sanok thought I was my father,” he said when he returned. ”He kept calling me 'Reinek' and asking after the boys.”
”And Nionik? He didn't try to change your mind?”
”He simply reminded me the law must be carried out. And told me we were ent.i.tled to our share of last season's harvest.”
”Good.”
”I'll not take anything from him!”
”It's our right. And we'll need the food.”
And he swallowed his pride and agreed.
Their kinfolk began arriving as the gloaming gave way to darkness. Some came and went furtively. Others announced their presence boldly. Just like the night before Darak and Urkiat left, word of their plans had spread throughout the village. Tonight, though, far fewer came to bid them farewell; clearly, many people supported the council's decision. But those who slipped into the hut brought gifts: spare clothes, packets of food, flints and arrows, axes and fires-ticks.
”We'll never be able to carry it all,” Faelia whispered.
”Aye, we will,” Griane replied with grim determination.
Sali brought three charms. ”This one wards off tiredness,” she explained to Faelia. ”This one protects you from wild beasts. And this one brings true love.” When Faelia eyed the last charm skeptically, Sali gave her a weak smile. ”Well. You never know.”
Griane patted her cheek. ”You're a good girl. And you'll make a fine healer. Don't be afraid to shout at people, though. It makes them think you know what you're doing.”
”Aye, Mother Griane,” she said in her usual meek voice.
”Sali . . .”
”Aye, Mother Griane,” she repeated with more spirit.
”That's better.”
Muina brought a flask of elderberry wine and laughed when Ennit produced a jug of brogac. ”After a few drinks,” he promised, ”you'll be able to drive off the wild beasts just by breathing on them.”
Somehow, she managed to say farewell to Ennit and Lisula without crying. ”We're best friends,” Lisula whispered fiercely. ”Nothing changes that. And someday, perhaps, you'll come back.” They both knew that would never happen, but neither wanted to believe this was the last time they would ever see each other.
Muina's eyes were bright when she offered her blessing. ”It's a hard path, child, but if you could manage in the First Forest, you'll manage now. The G.o.ds bless you and keep you safe.”
Ennit and Darak embraced, both of them fighting to keep their emotions under control. Ennit was the only friend Darak had ever had-save for Cuillon-and now he was losing him. But they were all losing friends; that was the only way they could keep their family together. She just wished Keirith could be here to share the farewells with them.
She hated to think of him sitting alone in Jurl's hut, but there was so much to do before dawn. Darak a.s.sured her that Keirith understood what they were planning and once their preparations were complete, he promised to remain with him until the casting out. Even so, this night must be lonely for him-and long.
When the last of the visitors left, she tucked Callie into bed and picked up two waterskins, a handful of nettle-cloths, and the basket she used to collect herbs. Darak looked up from his packing, but all he said was, ”Don't be too long.”
She had nearly reached the far end of the lake when she realized she was being followed. Even in the thin light of the waxing moon, she recognized Hircha's fair hair.
”I thought I could help.”
Griane hesitated, then thrust out the waterskins. ”You can fill these. There are some plants I want to dig up.”
”Now?”
”There won't be time on the morrow.”
She dampened the nettle-cloths and knelt down, guiding herself with her fingertips. Carefully wriggling her fingers into the soil, she freed the roots and wrapped the first plant in one of the cloths.
”What is that?” Hircha asked, peering into the basket.
”It's called heal-all.”
”I've never heard of it before.”
”You wouldn't have. It's from the Summerlands.”
Hircha caught her breath. With one forefinger, she gently brushed a slender leaf. ”Are they beautiful? The Summerlands?”
”Oh, aye. More beautiful than any Memory-Keeper could describe.” Griane bent closer to the heart-ease. ”I should have come before the light went.”
”Let me.”
”Be careful not to bruise the roots. Or pull too hard.”
”I know.” After a moment, Hircha added, ”My mother was a healer.”
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