After filling a small bowl with warm water, she returned to Hall’s bedside, armed with her tools—a bar of soap from the shelf above the bed and the small silver razor she’d found in his pack.
Shaving a man’s face wasn’t something she had personal experience with, but she’d seen it done often enough. Both her father and her brother had cursed their way through the ordeal.
If they could do it, with only their wavery reflection in a shield or pot as a guide, there was little doubt she could do it, too. And likely much better.
She dipped the soap into the warm water and rolled it in her hands, releasing the soothing aromas of lavender and balm. After smoothing the soap over Hall’s stubbly cheeks, she lifted the razor and gently stroked down his face. The trail left behind invited her touch. His skin was smooth and soft under her finger, like a page from one of the books the laird’s wife, Dani, valued so highly.
Brie returned to her self-appointed task, swiping the razor down Hall’s face again, allowing her mind to run free now that her hands were occupied.
One day, perhaps, she’d make the time to learn how to put the letters she already knew together so that she could read words. Just like the laird’s wife. Maybe her brother Jamesy was right and she would find reading a useful skill in the long run. It would have been helpful to have been able to read when she’d first found the scrolls in Torquil’s solar.
Chances were that whoever Hall did end up wedding would, like Lady Dani, spend her spare time engaged in the art of reading. Brie could almost picture herself tucked into a bright corner of some solar, an unrolled scroll propped in her lap, children on the floor at her feet....
Wait.
Her hand slowed to a stop, and she lifted the razor from Hall’s face while she waited for the universe to catch up with her. Something in that little fantasy she’d just concocted tickled at the back of her mind.
The scrolls!
What was it Orabilis had said about the scrolls?
A peek into their wisdom would tell us exactly how to heal our good warrior.
That was it!Thatwas what she could do to help him. If it was the scrolls Orabilis needed in order to save Hall, then, by the Seven, it was the scrolls she’d have.
There was nothing to be gained in waiting for her brother and his men to hunt down Mathew MacFalny. Even if they found him, without the jewels, they’d simply return to Castle MacGahan to wait for Hall.
Whereas ifshewere to locate the scrolls, she could bring them directly here to aid Orabilis in healing Hall.
It was settled.
Brie finished shaving Hall, making sure not to rush and risk a cut to his strong jawline. Once his face was cleaned and smooth, she replaced the razor in his pack and made her way outside to find Orabilis, a larger plan taking root in her mind.
Her hostess was in the sheds, feeding her goats.
“When I was here with the Tinklers, you said you knew of my mother’s people. When I was very young, my mother told stories of my ancestors marking symbols upon their bodies to protect them in battle. Do you have knowledge of these symbols?”
“I might,” the old woman answered, her fingers stroking through her goat’s silky coat. “What purpose do you have in asking after such a thing?”
Brie rubbed her hands together, seeking to calm the nerves that tumbled her stomach. A wise woman such as Orabilis would surely see the merit in her plan.
“You said the scrolls would allow you to heal Hall without question. I plan to go get them, but I dinna fool myself into thinking it will be easy. To help ensure my success, I wish to utilize the power of my people’s symbols.”
She’d set out for battle once before and had failed miserably in her task. The stakes now were higher than any she’d ever considered before. If she succeeded this time, Hall’s recovery was guaranteed.
“You dinna need the symbols. Yer power comes from what’s inside you, lass, not what’s emblazoned on your outside.”
“That may be so for most of my people. But no for me.” Though it wounded her pride to admit her weaknesses, Brie was sure that only honesty would convince Orabilis to help her. “My mother said the symbols imparted the magic and the wisdom of our ancestors. I’m no strong enough on my own, Orabilis. Though none can best me as an archer, my failings as a warrior are numerous. I’m no a patient woman. I’ve been known to be rash and overhasty in my choices. My temper gets the better of me, and I falter. In this quest, I mustn’t falter. I canna afford to falter.”
Orabilis lifted the bag at her feet and scattered its remaining contents into the goat pen before she answered.
“The last time you were here, yer only goal was to avenge yer father’s death. Is yer commitment to yer chosen cause such that you so easily change yer purpose in life?”
This was different. Surely the old woman could be made to understand that.
“Revenge is an all-consuming ambition. It soothes the grief and protects you from having to move on with yer life. It is a goal outside the constraints of time. Though I ken that nothing I can ever do will bring my father back, I will have my revenge in time.
“But now, in this moment, there’s something I need to do that isinsidethe constraints of time. I have it within my ability to prevent Hall’s death if I act quickly. Saving someone you care for should certainly take priority over revenge, should it no? My need for vengeance can wait.”
