Page 66 of Raven's Rise
“Aye.”
“You’re to feed and water the horses, and keep watch. Get the horses ready early. I want to leave here at first light.”
“Anything else?”
Rafe rubbed at his jaw. “If you see anyone near our horses, or asking after us, or if anyone just gives you a bad feeling, come find me.”
“I’m not the only one who was following you?”
“Evidently not. And at least one person has shot at Lady Angelet, so I’d rather not run into them again.”
Goswin’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll watch,” he vowed.
They ate, then Angelet went upstairs to the guest room while Rafe went out to the stables to see that Goswin knew what he was doing. When Rafe returned to the room, he stopped short in the doorway.
Laid carefully across the bed was a length of cloth, so dense with color and pattern that it was like looking through a window at a real scene. Except this scene was not anything he’d ever seen before.
“What is this?” he asked, approaching it.
Angelet, who’d been folding some clothing in the corner, said, “It’s the altar cloth I embroidered for Basingwerke Abbey. I had it packed in my own bag, and just remembered it. Do you think I could sell it for passage for a few people across the channel, and your horse as well?”
“You could sell it for a small ship of your own,” Rafe said. He’d been in many churches over his life, but he couldn’t recall seeing something as detailed and as rich as this art. He knew nothing about needlework, but he did know that this was unique in design.
A city in ivory and gold stood at the center, surrounded by fields of spectacularly intricate flowers and green plants. The whole thing seemed to invite him to walk directly into it, to walk up to the gates of this magnificent city.
“Where is this place?”
“Nowhere. Not in the world, that is. I saw this in one of my visions. It was so clear that for months afterward, I could close my eyes and remember the exact scene. I tried to imitate it as closely as I could, but it’s still not what I saw.”
“This is amazing.”
She gave a little shrug of her shoulder. “It’s cloth and thread. Nothing more.”
“It’s your vision.”
“I’d happily forgo all future visions if it meant I wouldn’t suffer the aftermath. You saw what it did to me at Dryton. And that one wasn’t nearly as powerful as some previous experiences. I fear I’m not made to be a vessel for divine revelation. It will break me at some point.”
Rafe looked over at her, concerned. “Is it getting worse?”
“I don’t know,” she said, though the possibility obviously scared her. “Both the visions and the pain afterward varies. And I never know when one will strike. The promise was that at Basingwerke, I might be healed.”
Rafe looked back to the cloth. If he ran an institution like an abbey, he’d promise nearly anything to gain such a skilled artist, especially one who couldn’t leave.
He ran his hand along the edge of the cloth. “How long did it take you to do this?”
“Mmmm, a few months, all told. I had a lot of time on my hands at Dryton. Just imagine what I had to look forward to if I’d made it to Basingwerke.” She shook her head. “What a legacy.Here lies Sister Angelet. She could embroider with rare skill.How inane.”
Rafe got a sudden inspiration. “If you desired a new skill, I could teach you to fight.”
She laughed. “Impossible.”
“Why? What’s a dagger or sword but a piece of thin metal with a point at the end? If you know how to wield a needle, you could learn to wield a sword.” He smiled, thinking of the image.
“I don’t attack the cloth as if it were my enemy.”
Rafe grew serious. “No, but you do have some enemies. Even today, when I had to leave you alone for a few minutes, wouldn’t you have felt better if you knew how to defend yourself, at least?”
“It would take far too long to teach me.” Angelet’s expression had grown speculative, though. She was interested in the idea.
