A Turn of Light (18 page)

Yes! His still form was lying on the pallet, Covie Ropps by his side. None better, Jenn told herself. Not when it came to stitching wounds or making poultices. Given the tendency of her children, grown and young, to scrape knees and bump heads, Covie’d had plenty of practice. Not to mention the cows.

Wisp wasn’t a child or cow. Jenn didn’t know what he was. But if Wisp as a man could be hurt, surely he could be healed.

Riss Nahamm held a basin and steaming kettle at the ready. With no open flame permitted in the mill, she’d have brought the water from her kitchen. Dusom Uhthoff and Zehr Emms waited at a short distance, their attention divided between the stranger on the bed and the one who stood in the sunlight by the open gantry door, his idle hand on one of the ropes used to hoist the heavy bags of grain, his gaze over the village and the valley.

Jenn hesitated as Horst went past her to the other villagers. Much as she longed to rush to Wisp’s side, the older women didn’t need her crowding them, nor would they understand her interest. Worse, what if he awoke, saw her, and . . . what would he say?

What should she?

All consequences she wished she’d thought about, before wishing at all.

Jenn let herself be drawn to the stranger instead, who surely deserved more than to be left waiting. His clothes were as blood-soaked as hers. And as wet, from the growing puddle around his boots.

Another advantage to bare feet.

“I haven’t—” Jenn began when she reached him. He turned and she lost whatever else she’d planned to say.

He was younger than she’d thought. His face had fooled her, set and stern during their crisis, and weathered save for pale skin where he’d recently shaved a beard. In tinker fashion, his hair fell loose to his broad shoulders, unlike the men of the village who kept theirs neatly trimmed to the collar. Dark wavy hair, with pine needles stuck in it. Hers likely held the same.

Dark hair and darker eyes. No, his eyes were like apple butter, dark brown with a warm amber glow in their depths, a glow that grew more pronounced as he returned her scrutiny.

Despite the settler shirt, homespun pants, and leather jerkin, this was no farmer. She could attest to the strength of his lean body, his quickness, his courage. The farmers she knew were strong and could be quick, if need be. She didn’t know if they were brave—she thought so.

But the man in front of her, he was different.

Roche Morrill had injured a fish hawk with an arrow; he’d claimed to be shooting at a goose, but she’d never believed it. His stepmother, Covie, had nursed it to health. The stranger reminded her of that hawk, wary by nature.

“—haven’t thanked you,” she finished.

“No need. You are most welcome.” A wide smile transformed his face and sparkled in his eyes. For the first time she noticed the subtle lilt he gave some words when he spoke. Different from the voices she knew. So were tinkers’, who rarely paused when they spoke and used a breathless “na” to indicate a question. That was confusing. This, she quite liked. “Though I believe it’s our friend over there who owes us.” A half bow. “My name is Bannan Larmensu. And yours, brave lady?”

She’d never been called a lady before. Or brave. Or, for that matter, encountered anyone who hadn’t known her name since she was little. “I’m Jenn,” she offered almost timidly. “Jenn Nalynn. This is my father’s mill.”

“Greetings, Jenn Nalynn. You don’t get many visitors, do you?” Bannan observed, his smile fading. When she looked a question, he nodded to where Horst stood talking with the other men in urgent, low voices.

“In Marrowdell? No. The tinkers and our aunt from Avyo. Years ago, a couple from Endshere who knew Anten thought they’d settle here but only stayed a night. You’re—” the most handsome stranger she’d ever met? Not something to admit, not when she planned to travel the wide world. Jenn temporized, “You’re the first visitor who’s rescued someone.”

His gaze touched Wisp, then came back to her. “The others don’t know him.” He lowered his voice. “You do.”

Jenn nodded. “He’s my friend. My best friend.”

“Are you why he almost drowned?”

“I—” Her protest died in her throat. “In a way,” she admitted miserably.

“Ah.” With a wealth of meaning to the sound. “A lover’s quarrel.”

Jenn scowled. “No. It’s not—” like that? Or was it?

“It’s not?” For some reason, this brought back Bannan’s smile. “Don’t worry. Whatever happened, you saved his life. Your friend will thank you.”

She hoped so.

He glanced past her. “My turn for introductions.” He nodded a greeting to the three approaching, his expression turning bland.

Horst. Jenn stiffened. She couldn’t help it and knew Bannan noticed.

“Surely I’ll get supper,” he said lightly.

Supper?

He meant to stay the night. Which was good, wasn’t it? Bannan Larmensu, being awake and interesting, would take attention from Wisp. She’d have time to think. To plan. Not to mention eat. She’d missed breakfast and lunch. “Of course you’ll get supper,” Jenn found herself saying. “Has someone looked after your—” she hesitated. She’d seen the teeth snap over the rein; what he rode didn’t belong with their livestock.

“Horse,” he supplied, as if daring her to say otherwise. “No need, thank you. I’ll take care of him. Scourge is shy with strangers.”

Shy? “As you wish,” she murmured, tensing as the three villagers stopped in front of them. She realized he couldn’t know their names either and introduced them as Aunt Sybb had taught her, gesturing to each in turn. “Bannan Larmensu, this is Dusom Uhthoff, Zehr Emms, and—”

“We’ve met,” Horst interrupted harshly. He looked like a stranger himself, Jenn thought, the lines of his face hard and grim. “Quite the coincidence, your arriving in time to help this other stranger.”

Bannan crossed his arms and leaned nonchalantly against a sun-touched beam. “Oh, you can thank my horse for that.”

“Your horse?” Horst’s eyebrow lifted.

Bannan nodded. “Dumped me at your road, then ran this way. I assume for good reason.”

“Your horse,” Dusom echoed. Jenn could tell he thought Bannan had landed on his head.

“A creature of rare perception. Just as well, or that fellow wouldn’t be breathing.”

“Or me.” Jenn pushed forward. Perhaps an exaggeration, but she wasn’t about to stand by and let them twist what had been the bravest, most selfless act she’d ever seen. “Bannan saved me too. You should be grateful he was here.”

Zehr looked embarrassed. “We are, Jenn. We are. But Horst watches the road and . . .”

“And you should heed his concerns,” Bannan finished for him, abruptly serious. He straightened and brought his right hand to his chest, touching forefinger to thumb to circle his heart. “Hearts of my Ancestors be witness, I swear I mean no harm to you or yours.” He lowered his hand. “Permit me to bring my wagon and companion to Marrowdell. Let me prove I’m what I said, a settler in search of a peaceful home. If you aren’t satisfied, we’ll be gone in the morning.”

“You didn’t—” Zehr bit off the rest, giving Horst an annoyed stare.

Dusom looked intrigued. “A new settler? Your companion too?”

“Only me. Tir’s convinced I’m mad to try farming.” Zehr chuckled at this; Horst scowled. “But he’s the kind of friend who couldn’t see me travel alone.”

“The good kind,” Dusom nodded.

“Yes.”

Jenn took an easier breath. She wasn’t sure what to make of Horst’s animosity, but the others were now more interested than concerned. Just then, Peggs, Aunt Sybb, and her father appeared at the top of the stairs; Peggs spotted her and waved. Relief flooded her from head to toe.

Until she saw the flood of people following behind.

The curious must have waited for the miller before coming inside to see for themselves. Gallie Emms, with tiny Loee on one hip. Anten with Cheffy, whose younger sister Alyssa stared at him with admiration. Hettie Ropp, who rushed to Peggs, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The Morrill brothers: Roche glowering at Bannan, Devins at Wisp. Kydd behind them, but not Wainn, who stayed away from crowds. And a crowd it became as the entire Treff household, less Wen, arrived at the top of the stairs with big Davi behind, last but not least.

Lorra and Fran had donned feathered black hats for the occasion. From the flash of chagrin on Aunt Sybb’s face, the powerful ladies of Marrowdell had scored a significant social victory.

In short order, the spacious loft was full of people, people who fell silent, people looking at her.

Jenn didn’t realize she’d reached for Bannan’s hand until his fingers closed warm around hers. “Quite the welcome,” he commented.

Aunt Sybb had paused with the rest, probably taken aback by their blood-soaked clothing, but recovered first. She walked briskly toward them. Radd and Peggs joined her, as did, for some reason, Hettie and Kydd. The rest waited where they were. A dignified but firm nod moved Horst, Zehr, and Dusom from her aunt’s path. She stopped in front of Jenn and Bannan and waited.

Hurriedly letting go of Bannan’s hand, Jenn performed the introduction. “Bannan Larmensu, this is my aunt, Sybb Mahavar. Of Avyo,” she added loudly, to make up for the hats.

Bannan gave a deeper bow than any Jenn had seen, one leg back, almost sweeping the floor with the fingertips of his right hand, his left over his heart. “Bannan Marerrym Larmensu, dear lady. A pleasure.”

“Ah! A modern gentleman.” Aunt Sybb actually dimpled. “Please excuse Marrowdell’s manners,” she told him. “I’m sure you wish to freshen after your adventure.” To Jenn, “Bring your young man along, dear.” To them both. “A wash and clean clothes. Then a meal. I won’t take no for an answer.” To Bannan, “We’re so very happy to meet you at last. I confess, I had no idea you’d be so personable.”

Bewildered, Jenn looked at Peggs who mouthed what looked like “toad.”

Toad?

Jenn’s confusion cleared. Aunt Sybb thought Bannan was Wisp.

Meanwhile, having no idea what was going on, Bannan took it in stride. He bowed again, not so deeply, with that wide smile. “You honor me, dear lady.”

“Lucky man.” Zehr grinned. “Peggs Nalynn is the best cook in Marrowdell. And our beauty.”

Hettie giggled, Peggs turned a lovely pink, while at this vindication of her assurance of manners, or rather the lack thereof, in the village, Aunt Sybb gave a delicate sigh.

“But first.” Bannan looked at Horst. “My companion?”

“There’s another one?” Aunt Sybb’s eyebrows rose.

No wonder, Jenn thought, losing track herself suddenly. Bannan hadn’t meant Wisp. A third stranger was coming, making this a day Marrowdell’s residents would remember and discuss far too long. No point going halfway, she told herself. “He’s welcome too.”

“Hold on—” Horst said roughly. “We can’t allow—”

“Nalynn vouches for our guests,” Radd interrupted in a no-nonsense voice, staring at Horst until the other man gave a short unhappy nod. “Then it’s—”

A shriek rang out. Everyone turned as a masked man appeared at the top of the stairs, a blackened ax high in each fist. He gave another shrieking shout and launched himself up and onto the floor, crouching like a maddened bear about to attack.

Jenn gawked with the rest.

“I see my companion’s arrived,” Bannan said mildly, drawing his share of startled looks. “Tir,” this with exasperation, “what are you doing?”

Unabashed, the man lowered his weapons and straightened. He put the ax handles through loops in his wide belt, then gave a short bow, hands wide and empty. “Apparently saving you from lovely farm maids, sir.” Above the metal mask, his eyes shone bold and merry. He bowed again, this time at Hettie Ropp. “I advise surrender, faced with so fair a foe.”

Hettie, for once speechless, pressed her hands to her throat and appeared short of breath. Peggs elbowed her in the side.

Aunt Sybb rose to the occasion. “I expect you both,” she told Bannan, “at our table.”

“Not so fast, Sybb.” Frann Nall pressed forward. “We want to know what happened. Who’s the man from the river?” She pointed dramatically to the corner with the pallet and the rest of the villagers shifted to give Aunt Sybb a clear view.

“More?” This time, her aunt looked thoroughly shaken. “Jenn?”

“I can explain—” Jenn stopped there. Not like this. Not in front of everyone, family, friends, and strangers. Her hand found itself wrapped in Bannan’s again.

“That’s Wyll, Aunt Sybb,” Peggs announced. She had the audacity to wink at her sister. “You remember Wyll,” she continued briskly. “He was coming to visit. Poor man was attacked by bandits. Did you encounter such terrible foes on your travels?” This with the full brunt of her earnest, gorgeous eyes on Tir. Jenn bit her lip to keep from smiling. Peggs could make any man blush with that look. And the number of times she’d talked them both out of trouble?

“Indeed, dear lady,” Tir affirmed, a rosy tinge to his ears and bald head. “Some tried our camp last night. Dangerous, they are. Your friend’s lucky to escape with his life.”

“Not luck. Bannan pulled him from the river just in time,” Jenn added. “And me.”

“He did, did he?” For the first time, Bannan’s companion looked directly at her. Whatever he’d planned to say stayed behind his mask. His eyes seemed to see right through her.

Jenn realized her hand was still in Bannan’s and she pulled it free, blushing furiously.

“A wash, change of clothes, and something hot,” Aunt Sybb pronounced, taking charge again. She wheeled with an elegant lift of her hand to collect everyone she expected to follow, and the rest of Marrowdell parted to let them through without a murmur.

Jenn looked longingly at Wisp, lying so still. Peggs leaned close, “Go,” she whispered. “I’ve helped Covie before. I’ll talk to her, find out how he’s doing. Meet you at home.”

Could there be a better sister? “Oh, Peggs . . .”

“Thank me by helping with lunch.” Peggs gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “I want to know everything that happened.”

From the questions filling the eyes of everyone she passed, Peggs wasn’t the only one.

The reprieve would be short indeed.