Page 100 of The Seeker
“I am yourreshon, Meera. I don’t consider that an opportunity. I consider it a gift.”
She’d been surprised. Taken aback. No one but her parents had ever cared for her without obligation. The Tomir guarded her. The singers of Udaipur served her and learned from her. But Rhys… he didn’t owe her anything. Nothing at all. He wanted Meera for herself. He said he loved her for herself.
Meera didn’t know what to do with that love.
Ata reached for another palmetto strip. “Perhaps he is simply brooding. My mate did that occasionally. Men need to brood.”
“Maybe.” Meera picked up another palmetto frond. “That must be it.”
“Finish that frond,” Ata said. “And I’ll teach you another song.”
“Can I record it this time with my digital recorder?”
“I don’t care what you do,” Ata said. “But make those strips narrower.”
Hours later,Meera was loading the digital file of Ata’s weaving song into her computer, and Rhys still wasn’t back. She had asked Ata if she could sense him close by, and Ata had told her not to worry, so she tried not to.
She did more weaving.
She weeded the garden.
She made preliminary notes about the grammatical structure of Ata’s language, as much as she could discern from its relation to the Natchez language and the way the Uwachi Toma had tied their language and the Old Language together in spells.
She washed clothes.
She tried not to think about Rhys.
It was impossible.
He came back to the mound before sunset with a long string of fish held in his hand.
“Good work,” Ata said. “You stink.”
“I know. Is there water in the bathhouse?”
“Yes, and it’s already heated.” Ata held up the fish. “I have a stew going for dinner, but I can smoke and dry these.”
“Whatever you think best,” Rhys said. “I just needed some quiet.”
“And now you need a bath.” Ata glanced across toward Meera. “I’ll send your mate in with some drinking water.”
Rhys heaved a sigh. “Meera is not my—”
“Don’t care.” Ata turned and walked away, leaving Meera standing at the door of their hut, watching Rhys.
He looked at her. Opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, then walked into the bathhouse without a word.
Meera went back into their hut and sat on the bed, unsure of what she should do. She hated feeling unsure. Hated it. From the time she was a child, she’d always known what to do and where to go. She’d always known her role and her duties.
Rhys didn’t want to be a duty to her. So what was she supposed to do with him?
Ata stuck her head through the curtain of their hut. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go bring the man some drinking water. He’s been out in the heat all day. I’m shocked he isn’t unconscious.”
Meera jumped up. “Okay.” Bring the man some water. She could do that.
