Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) (71 page)

Someone entered the stable from the yard. Tob stared. Billowing hair, bright eyes, slender neck. Her cloak lay carelessly across her shoulders, open in front to reveal a single lightweight calf-length tunic of pale green. The tunic slid across her soft, gentle, curves as she moved. She smelled of wood smoke and cinnamon and sweat
—
a woman
’
s sweat. She was beautiful.

She was Iris.

Tob tripped over one of the shafts in front of the wagon and dropped most of the sacks. Iris shook her head as she passed him.
“
Careful, Tobble,
”
she chided kindly.
“
You must really be tired.
”

“
Hello,
”
Tob replied inanely.

His father, who was inspecting Stockings
’
hooves, looked up at him sharply. Iris didn
’
t notice.

“
Pepper,
”
she said, resting one hand on top of the eight-year-old
’
s head.
“
I think Mama wants you. Supper
’
s almost ready and she
’
s put the dishes on the sideboard.
”

“
I better go,
”
Pepper agreed. Matti ran out after her.

Jordy smiled pleasantly at Iris, showing none of the reactions to her appearance that were afflicting Tob.
“
Look at yourself, my girl. Summer dress, flushed face, flour on your hands
—
you and Cyril are baking.
”

Iris
’
s light laugh made Tob
’
s chest ache. His chest and other parts of his body.
“
All right, it
’
s obvious. Now, guess what we
’
re baking?
”

“
Spiral rolls,
”
Jordy guessed at once.

“
Apple pie. I
’
d better go back. Is there anything I can take with me?
”

Jordy bent and picked up another of the big mare
’
s hooves.
“
The box of spices. Cyril will be glad to see that. Tob, show her which it is.
”

Tob hurriedly wiped his damp palms on his trousers and joined Iris at the back of the wagon. She returned his smile absently.
“
This one?
”
she said, indicating a moderate-sized crate with the toe of her slipper.

“
You
’
re joking?
”
The inappropriateness of her choice was enough to startle him out of his bemusement. He picked up the correct, much smaller box and placed it in her hands.
“
This is all one family needs for a year.
”

“
Oh, of course. Thank you.
”

He stood, staring after her as she slipped out of the stable. He continued to stare, his mind full of vague and disturbing thoughts, until his father
’
s voice said,
“
Tob.
”

“
Yes, Dad?
”

“
Come here.
”

Jordy had nearly completed grooming Stockings. Tob accepted the cloth his father handed him and began rubbing the animal
’
s deep brown coat. They worked for several minutes on opposite sides of the mare.

“
Dad,
”
Tob said at last.

“
Aye.
”

“
Iris has changed.
”

“
Has she?
”

“
Yes. You saw her. She
’
s so
…
pretty.
”

“
She
’
s always been pretty, lad.
”
Jordy stepped back to examine Stockings with a critical eye.

“
Not that pretty.
”

“
She
’
s not as thin as she was.
”
The admission was made absently as Jordy roused Stockings from her doze and led her into her stall. The horse stuck her nose into an empty feed rack. Guiltily, Tob clambered up into the loft and dropped a couple of generous forkfuls of hay into place. When he returned to the floor, he found his father studying the general disarray around the wagon.

“
Sorry, Dad. It
’
ll just take me a minute to finish.
”

Jordy regarded him with a rather odd expression.
“
I think our Iris is not so much prettier than she
’
s been all summer, as healthier. Less upset than she was at first, certainly. She
’
s come to trust us, lad. To have confidence in her life here. But that trust may still be fragile. If you care for her, go gently.
”
He paused, then retrieved his cloak from the top of the feed bin and swung it over his shoulder.
“
I
’
ll see you in the house.
”

Tob leaned weakly against the side of the wagon after his father had gone. Care for her? Of course he cared for her. Didn
’
t he? As a family member? She needed someone to look after her. She used to need someone. Obviously, she had changed. She was beautiful. No, Dad was right. Her face hadn
’
t really changed. It was more than that. Something inside her.

He shivered and looked down at his hands. Or, he wondered with an insight he didn
’
t really want, was the change inside him?

Vray stood in the darkness in her corner of the attic.
“
Not again.
”

Where had she left it this time? She would never have guessed a year ago how difficult it would be to keep track of a cloak. A year ago she hadn
’
t owned a cloak. She had shivered through cold weather at Soza wrapped in a blanket that didn
’
t leave her shoulders for ninedays at a time. If you never parted with something you could hardly lose it. It was too easy, too tempting, to forget all that. Her present abundance was making her careless. She had warm skirts and blouses, and a long, sleeveless, quilted tunic, one of Cyril
’
s peculiar yet practical designs. Jordy had brought the hooded woolen cloak, dyed a rich rust brown, all the way from southern Dherrica just for her. She faced the increasingly colder mornings well dressed and content.

Her trouble was that the cold mornings had been giving way to mild afternoons, a warm streak that she appreciated for as long as it would last. Vray had paused in the act of unlacing her blouse, suddenly conscious of the missing cloak. She
’
d worn it on her morning visit to Canis to learn more of Broadford
’
s history. She
’
d worn it back, too. It had rained just before
midday
and she remembered adjusting her hood against the cold drops that were washing away the first snowfall. She
’
d worn it out to the stable after lunch. Tob had been mending harness and she had wanted to listen to his travel tales while she worked on her embroidery.

In the privacy of her curtained alcove
,
Vray made a face. She saw the cloak clearly in her memory, draped over the side of the wagon. If the sun hadn
’
t come out to warm the later afternoon she wouldn
’
t have forgotten it. She had two choices; retrieve it now, or face the morning chill without it. Even without it she
’
d be better dressed than she
’
d been at Soza. A quick dash across the yard would do her no harm in the morning.

Vray sat on the edge of her bed.
“
I
’
m spoiled,
”
she admitted aloud.
“
I don
’
t care. There
’
s nothing wrong with appreciating comfort.
”

She pulled on her boots and retrieved her quilted half-jacket from the end of the bed. Let Tob tease her about devoting too much of her memory to Redmother business and leaving nothing for herself. Pepper said he was always insufferable after a summer spent adventuring with the carter. If the little ones could ignore him, so could she.

She descended the ladder to the main room. The banked fire revealed shadows and emptiness. Tob was no longer at the table where she
’
d had last seen him. A glimmer of lamplight peeked out from under the curtain blocking the entrance to Cyril and Jordy
’
s room. Relieved to be unobserved, Vray tiptoed to the front door and slipped outside.

Under the overcast sky the night was very dark. The yellow light that leaked around the edges of the stable door seemed all the brighter in comparison with the blackness of the other farm buildings. Vray ran lightly across the yard. With luck it would only be the carter making his final check on the animals. She really didn
’
t want to face Tob
’
s teasing tonight.

The stable door moved noiselessly under her hand. Once inside she heard Jordy talking to someone at the far end of the aisle between the stalls. Stones! Tob wouldn
’
t hold his tongue just because he was with his father. Vray quickly ducked between the wagon and the partition that separated it from the storeroom. She
’
d just have to grab the cloak and slip out again without being seen.

Her hand closed on soft wool just where she
’
d left it. From the end of the aisle a voice answered Jordy. Vray hesitated, startled. The voice did not belong to Tob.

“
You can
’
t blame Sitrine.
”

“
Sene is a proper king.
”
The calm tenor voice of the blacksmith, Lannal, was unmistakable. Vray abandoned the cloak and dropped to one knee in the shadows behind the wagon. Bending further, she peered through the spokes of the front wheels.

She
’
d been correct in guessing that Tob was in the stable with his father. It had simply never occurred to her that they would not be alone. Lannal sat on the oat bin, his thick forearms crossed over his chest. Beside him Herri occupied Jordy
’
s three-legged stool. Jordy himself was cross-legged on the floor, his back resting against the door to Stockings
’
stall. A familiar pair of boots dangled at the upper edge of Vray
’
s field of vision, revealing Tob
’
s location, perched at the edge of the hay loft.

“
Still,
”
Jordy said.
“
I expected stronger feelings. Damon
’
s greed is a threat to everyone. I thought I could make that clear.
”

“
They agree he
’
s a danger to us,
”
Tob
’
s voice floated down reasonably.
“
And to Dherrica. But they
’
re also sure that King Sene will never support us against Damon. They
’
re both Shapers, after all.
”

Jordy
’
s face twisted sourly.
“
I asked no one in Sitrine what they thought their Shapers would do. I asked them, Keeper to Keeper, what they could do to help us. They
’
ve forgotten how to think for themselves. They depend entirely on their rulers.
”

“
We all did,
”
Herri said quietly,
“
before the plague.
”

“
Leave Sitrine for now,
”
Lannal suggested.
“
I understand the people of Dherrica are a little less complacent.
”

“
Aye. But they
’
ve too many problems of their own to bother with Rhenlan
’
s affairs. Many in Dherrica say they
’
ve had enough of kings, though.
”