Page 4 of Secrets of the Lore Keepers
A gasp leftmy parted lips as I met his haunted gaze. In the daylight, he appeared even more mysterious than the evening before. He sat up, wincing as he touched his wounded side. Shoulder-length hair moved with him, giving me a glimpse of pointed ears. I froze as his eyes held mine. They were dark, hungry, and examined me as though he were trying to read the thoughts whirling in my head.
Tension hung between us, but the sight of straw poking out of his hair, mixed with my deep relief that he was alive, broke my surprised silence. “Excuse my manners,” I offered, words rolling easily off my tongue. “My sister and I found you in the meadow last night. You were wounded.” I pointed at his bandaged side. “We dressed your wound and brought you here to heal. I brought some food, if you’re hungry.” I lifted the basket so he could see I meant no harm. My fingers grazed the latch on the stall door. “May I come in?”
His eyes narrowed, and he blinked in confusion before nodding.
I entered and sat the basket by his feet, and then retreated to stand against the stall door, giving me an exit should things go wrong. A flush came to my cheeks as I studied him. Awake there was a quiet elegance to him, as though he never spoke, never moved without deep intentions. I wanted to pester him with questions: Who was he? Where had he come from? How did he get the wound? What was his name?
He reached for the basket, this time keeping the wince off his face, and picked up an apple. He took a bite. Relief seemed to come over him. Perhaps he’d just been hungry. My eyes drifted to the water canteen, wondering if he’d finished the potion. My fingers itched with the need to do something, but I willed myself to stay calm.
“My name is Rae,” I told him.
“Rae,” he repeated.
The first words he’d spoken and my name on his tongue sounded as sweet as honey. A warm buzz went through me along with a slight fluttery sensation.
“Has anyone come here, looking for me?” He finished the apple in a series of rapid bites and reached for the bread and cheese.
I tilted my head, unable to keep the furrow off my brow. “Nay, no one comes here unless they are in need. This is a remote farmland, and during the storm yesterday, you’re the only one we saw. Why? What’s your name? Are you in some kind of trouble? Who knifed you?”
He paused to stare at me, as if I had the answers, and he was trying to read them.
A sudden sensation I could not explain came over me and I rubbed the back of my neck, recalling perhaps I should tend to the animals.
“Do you always ask this many questions?” His mellow voice pulled me back into the conversation.
“Do you always end up half dead in a field?” I retorted, mischief dancing around my lips. I would get answers, one way or another.
He shook his head, causing some hay to fall out, but not enough to make him look less silly. I sucked in one cheek and shifted my weight from one leg to the other, waiting on his answer.
“You must forgive me.” He straightened his shoulders. “I. . .” he shifted in the hay, examining the food, the water, and the blanket. “I don’t remember,” he confessed, lifting a hand to touch his head.
As he moved the light caught his hair, and I saw it was a dark blue, not black like I’d thought. My heart beat fast. Who was this man with pointed ears and dark blue hair? When I returned to the house, I’d ask Maraini what she knew. She kept up with the lore of our ancestors, while I’d let my studies of old times slip, preferring to focus on the tasks at hand.
The more pressing issue was the fact that the man seemed to have lost his memory. Perhaps an object from his past would help jolt his mind, otherwise I’d need to prepare a memory potion for him.
“You were lying on a knife when we found you,” I told him, wondering if the strange man knew his own name. “I put it in the bottom of the basket, in case it has any meaning for you. Perhaps it will help your memory, but if not, I will brew you some memory tea. And you don’t have to worry about anyone following you here. Wards of protection keep this land safe.”
His nostrils flared and his eyes bored into mine.
Aha! I had his attention. I waited for him to reach into the basket and take out the knife, but he just sat there, staring at me.
The silence stretched until it was awkward and I swung the stall door open. Even though I wanted to stay and find out more, I forced my feet away. “I have to do my morning chores, perhaps I’ll return later and we can speak? Your wound is still healing, so I recommend rest for today. Oh, and you have hay in your hair.”
I laughed as I scurried away, saying good morning to the horses and giving them nosebags of oats. I wondered if the stranger was picking hay out of his hair and realizing how ridiculous he looked. But his question bothered me. Why did he want to know if anyone was looking for him? Was he being hunted? I needed to confer with Maraini on what we should do with him. For all we knew, we could have a thief, outlaw, or bounty hunter in our barn. But what if he was on the run from the king and his soldiers? So many delightful thoughts twirled through my mind. By the time I was done milking the cows and gathering the eggs, I itched for an excuse to return to the barn.
* * *
At midday,I found Maraini hiding under the shade of sunflowers, book in hand and a picnic basket beside her. She glanced up when I arrived. Her curly black hair was braided back, as usual.
I plopped down beside her, the shadow of the six-foot-tall sunflowers cooling me off. “Reading again?” I grinned as I poked the lid off the basket.
She smiled and tucked the book away. “Forgot your lunch again?”
“Always.” I unwrapped a sandwich and bit into it.
Maraini wiped her hands on her skirt and picked up the other sandwich.
A deep satisfaction filled me as I bit in to a rich collection of vine-ripe tomatoes, fragrant basil, and a mild, white cheese. The midsummer harvest was ready, but Maraini and I were already behind gathering the ripe vegetables from our garden. We met at midday to compare notes, but I was well aware the upkeep of our farm was spiraling out of our control. On market day we’d hire workers to harvest the garden and make repairs around the farmland.
