Turning from them, he strode back toward the staircase that would lead him inside Tordenet, feeling well pleased. With such bravado, he’d have high expectations for them. They were certainly different from any he’d yet seen enter his—
His foot skidded to a stop and he turned to stare after the men being led to his sister’s tower.
Theyweredifferent.
What was it Christiana had said about her Vision of the man who would determine the outcome of his plans? That he would be somehow different from all the others. That he would have interaction with her.
Access to the healer was among the first requeststhese men had made. And even now they were on their way to Christiana’s tower.
These two would bear watching. One of them could very well be the man he’d searched for.
Torquil smiled. His plans seemed to be progressing even more quickly than he had hoped. Now he must do his part to be ready.
All the more reason to continue his efforts to master the Magic of the ancient scroll.
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Eight
CHRISTIANA RUMMAGED THROUGHher jars of herbs, looking for the exact ones she wanted. So many of them were either close to empty or completely gone. Soon she’d need to seek Torquil’s permission to visit Orabilis to restock her supplies. Although, after what had happened the last time she’d received permission for a trip to see the wise woman, he might well decide to forbid her ever going again.
She pushed away the thought. Her stomach already tumbled with nerves gone strangely awry this day. A good, hot tisane of all her favorite herbs was exactly what she needed to rid her of this unexplained sense of disquiet.
A bit of lavender, a pinch of balm, some periwinkle.
“No,” she groaned, turning the little pottery jar she held upside down in hopes there might be some small shreds stuck to the bottom. Empty. Completely empty. There would be no periwinkle in her tisane this day. She’d have to settle for a little chamomile and betony instead.
“Oh, bollocks!” she fumed, finding the betony jar down to less than a quarter of its leaves and crumbles.
This was one of herbs she used most, for everything from headaches to wounds. With her supply so low, she couldn’t afford to waste it on herself simply because she was feeling jumpy. She’d have to do without its aid this day. She’d be doing withoutmostof her favorites for a while, with her stock so low.
The alternative was marching across the bailey and demanding to speak with Torquil.
With a snort, she put the stopper back on the betony jar and crossed the room to place her little pot of water over the fire.
When she considered it in those terms, it was an easy enough choice. She’d rather drink lukewarm water running straight off the muck in the goat pens than face Torquil unnecessarily.
She’d just retrieved her favorite mug when a knock at her door served as the final straw for her jittery nerves. The clay mug tumbled from her fingers, shattering on the hard floor.
Visitors to her tower were infrequent, consisting only of those needing help with a wound or sickness or the men her brother sent when he summoned her.
Taking a moment to compose herself, she brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face and then opened the door to find Ulfr waiting there, accompanied by two men she’d never seen before.Warriors, from the looks of them. From their massive builds to their sharp expressions, they radiated strength and confidence.
Christiana stepped back into her room, extending an arm to invite them in. It was preferable to having them push her aside when they entered, which they would do if Torquil had sent them, regardless of whether or not she offered invitation.
Her concern waned a bit when the strangers dipped their heads courteously as they entered, a sure sign they were new to Tordenet. Once they observed her place at the bottom of the pecking order, they’d treat her with the same indifference everyone else did.
“These men have requested the assistance of a healer. Our lord has commanded me to bring them to you.” Ulfr’s gaze wandered around the room while he spoke, as if he hoped to find some sign of illicit behavior that he might report to his master.
“What troubles you?” she asked, looking from one of the newcomers to the other.
Weariness rode their shoulders, evidence they had traveled long and hard to reach their destination. Both men had hair in shades of gold, but there the similarities stopped. The larger of the two wore a neatly trimmed beard, his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, and he dressed in finely made clothing, while the smaller man wore what appeared to be oversize castoffs, and his hair barely brushed his shoulders.
As they passed her on entering her chambers, she realized the second man was hardly what she could consider small, towering over her as he did. He was equal in stature to Ulfr. No, it was only that the first was a great bear of man.
The larger of the two, obviously the one used to being in charge, spoke up first.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but on our travels here, my brother was set upon by thieves. He’s a nasty bump to his head and, with their having taken his boots, he’s blisters upon his feet now. We’ve a need for an herbal poultice to help with the healing.”
