The Twisting (21 page)

Seconds passed with them staring at each other.

Finally, Rivley nodded toward the Harvester. “Annmar wants to help Wellspring, and I’m going to help her do it. I was wrong to be too proud to listen to Mary Clare when she told me not to let Annmar out of my sight, and I was wrong not to listen to Annmar about those lights she sees. Look what happened.” He crossed his arms. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Rivley hadn’t said so directly, but something about how he’d not listened to Mary Clare was behind their split. He’d admitted his mistakes…including one that had gotten Henry killed.

And Henry’s death is killing Riv
.

“You can’t take the blame for Henry dying,” Daeryn blurted out, “any more than Annmar can take it for not being able to heal him.”

“I wondered if she’d had a chance to try.” Rivley shook his head. “Don’t waste your breath trying to make me feel better.” He dropped his gaze to the ground. “Henry died because of what happened here tonight. It could have been Mary Beth. Or Master Brightwell. Or me. Or you. Any of us.”

Damn, he hadn’t thought of how close Riv was to all those who’d been injured. He and Master Brightwell were headed toward being partners. Not only had Riv been working with Henry lately, he’d been interested in Mary Beth when they first arrived at Wellspring.

“If I had only—”

“Don’t say it.” Daeryn clapped a hand to Rivley’s shoulder. “Don’t even think it. What happened was an accident. The faulty Harvester is to blame. The pests are to blame. It’s beyond you, beyond me. Beyond any of us. Like Sylvan’s death was.”

Rivley’s head popped up, and he stared at Daeryn with narrowed eyes. For a second, Daeryn feared Riv would want to talk more about Sylvan when he wasn’t ready for that. But after a moment, Rivley nodded. “You know, earlier this evening you said we should start on that second gildan lesson after this vermin issue cleared up. We shouldn’t wait. I’m ready to work together.”

Riv had always pushed getting on with it, but this time he made the offer with an extra note of feeling. Henry’s death, Daeryn realized. He pulled Riv into a brief hug. They released each other, and he said, “That’d be good.” The lesson echoed through his head:
Honestly work together to restore yourselves and your pack.
“Working together to get the doodem will be our start?”

“Glad you agree. It’d be a fine start to our co-leading.” Rivley prodded an enamel pan across the wagon.

Daeryn stilled when he looked at the white oblong item inside. “This is—no, not the—”

“That’s it. I think its deterioration is why the Harvester failed. I can find no other reason why this machine’s controls are malfunctioning, so replacing the doodem is our best hope. If anyone has a chance of prying help from that old hedge-rider, it’s Annmar.”

“I’m game for going. No matter how determined Annmar is to approach her, everyone needs support, especially a new Knack-bearer.”

With a nod, Rivley extended his hand. Daeryn braced for the fire to burn his belly again. They shook on it…

This time their piercings didn’t change.

“Ah.” Rivley poked Daeryn’s chest. “Because we’re not pack yet.”

Daeryn batted his hand away. What did he expect? That a simple agreement would conclude each lesson? “Fine,” he growled out. “I can talk about Sylvan, so I can talk about that.” All along, Riv had maintained the Elders meant for them to be pack to fulfill the gildan obligation, even when the birdbrain…er, avian hadn’t remembered all the lessons. Daeryn wiped a hand over his face, catching Annmar’s scent again. He breathed deeply. She was wonderful. He had to keep moving forward.
They
had to keep moving. “You know, I’ve been angry with you for trying to force a return to pack on me all these years, but I suppose you’re not such a birdbrain after all. Sorry.”

“Thanks for admitting that.” Rivley cocked his head. “You never told me to drop it.”

“Even if the urges sometimes appeared—like with Jac—actually following through was too hard with Sylvan gone.” Daeryn shrugged. “Maybe your instinct is better than mine.”

Rivley punched him lightly. “I tell you, there is nothing else to do to resolve this. I’ll say it again, I’m willing to be pack again, any time you ask. In the meantime—” He jerked his chin to the Harvester.

Was being part of a pack again really a missing piece? Daeryn cast a glance around at the Luci-viewer lights dotting the hillsides. This conversation had been worth every second they’d neglected their duties. “We’ll discuss it. Tomorrow, all right?”

Rivley nodded. “Fine.” He plucked up a piece of brass and extracted his wrench from his pocket. “See you then.”

chapter TWENTY-THREE

Annmar sighed and
pulled Daeryn closer, his chest warm against her own as she kissed him and wiggled into him, trying to capture his scent, which, oddly, was missing… She woke, hugging the pillow on her narrow cot in the library. Flushed from her dreams, she shoved the pillow aside and rose, straightening the covers and tucking her flannel shirt into the bib-and-brace she’d slept in.

Never had she woken with this sort of churning…down there. It wasn’t going to take much to invite Daeryn to her room again and find out what all this was really about. She snorted a laugh. Exactly what Mr. Shearing hoped to be the one to teach her.

The thought sobered her. She and Mary Clare had gotten interrupted before discussing exactly how she might avoid actually doing anything with Mr. Shearing. She sank onto the cot again, her head in her hands. If Polly’s rumors were even half true, Mr. Shearing’s equipment was probably in fine form. Unlikely he’d have any malfunction once he had her in that private hotel suite where she had to
spend the night
if she wanted to stay true to the contents of letter and not be accused of defaulting on the deal.

Another thought followed right behind these. Annmar pushed herself off the bed, went to the dining room and found the
Regulatia
. She finished a spoonful mixed with a small portion of oatmeal in a few bites while standing at the dining room window. Too bad there wasn’t an herb for men, to make them as limp as Rivley had been in his pain.

“Glad to see you’re not forgetting already,” Mary Clare whispered at her side.

Annmar glanced around the mostly empty room. The few growers still eating had their heads propped by tired hands. “I can’t forget. Tonight’s…”

Mary Clare grasped her arm. “You’ve decided then?”

“I have to,” she said. “If Mr. Shearing hadn’t seen me and withheld those other Eradicators, more people would have been operating them instead of the Harvester.”

Mary Clare’s grip tightened, and she pulled them closer to the window. “You believe Henry wouldn’t have died, that it’s your fault?”

Annmar nodded.

“No. Henry still would have been helping. If not Henry, someone else. My sister.”

“If I’d pushed Rivley to listen to me about the blue—”

“
Shh
! Don’t carry the burden yourself.” Mary Clare’s green eyes bored into hers, and affirmative feelings swirled between them. They stopped and dispersed before changing Annmar’s doubt.

Mary Clare’s words made sense, exactly what Daeryn and Miriam had said, but Annmar had tossed half the night thinking about this. She hadn’t healed Henry well enough, she hadn’t insisted Rivley listen to her, and she hadn’t put a stop to Mr. Shearing’s advances back in Derby. But she could get the doodem and confirm the Harvester worked. Then they’d return the other Harvesters, first, to check their doodems and prevent more malfunctions, and second, to make sure Wellspring didn’t fail.

“Whatever the reason is or isn’t, I have an opportunity to right this,” Annmar said. “For Henry and for Wellspring. I will do whatever it takes. That’s the promise Henry made. I’m taking over for him.”

Mary Clare gave a sympathetic smile and dropped her hand. She returned to the sideboard and scooped several spoonfuls of
Regulatia
into a napkin. She folded the cloth and offered it to Annmar. “Just in case…things don’t go—”

“He won’t,” Annmar said in a low voice, but she took the herb. In a more private setting, she’d tell Mary Clare about Jac’s training.

“We’ll have plenty of time on the train to talk. Good thing I already have approval and a Proof for my trip to see my sister. I’ll use it for this—after all, I will stay with Mary Alice.”

Annmar told her of the trip to Market Day to purchase a new doodem, or rather three, since they planned to ship back the additional harvesters.

Mary Clare sniffed. “I don’t trust those boys not to lose you. But I’ll have to ask Mrs. Betsy for the morning off, and she’s already letting me go this afternoon and tomorrow with no explanation. This will surely lead to questions we don’t want to answer.” She sighed. “I’ll think of something. You wake them and go without me if you have to. The doodem maker will be set up already.” She led the way to the kitchen.

The
Regulatia
clasped in her hand reminded Annmar of her earlier question about herbs. She caught Mary Clare at the kitchen doorway, casting a glance to make sure Mrs. Betsy was occupied at the cookstove, then whispered, “Is there an herb that could make a man go limp like…um, Rivley was?”

Mary Clare stared at her. “We aren’t seeing each other anymore, but I’m not
that
angry with him.”

“Not for him,” Annmar said. “For Mr. Shearing.”

Mary Clare’s eyes widened. “Oh, what a perfect punishment for a man like that.” She scrunched up her face. “I’ve never heard tell of an herb to do that, and I would have, given how Mary Beth gets so furious at some of her suitors. With all her gardening know-how, she’d have found it. No, there’s nothing…but…” She broke into a grin. “You healed Rivley without making a sketch?”

Annmar nodded.

“You can heal a body to make it function. Do you think you could make it not function?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Oh, my.”

“Exactly.” Mary Clare took her arm. “Come on, we better test it first.”

They pivoted to cross through the kitchen and ran into one of the younger Pemberton girls.

“Mary Frances,” hissed Mary Clare. “Were you listening again?”

The younger girl backed up, lifting a basket of bread to block Mary Clare’s reaching hand. “I wasn’t.”

Mary Clare waved a finger at her. “You tell anyone and I swear I’ll get you.” She stomped past her sister. “Let’s go, Annmar.”

Minutes later, they stood in an unfamiliar hallway. Annmar shouldn’t have been able to walk down this corridor, but all that scent-marking and allowing Daeryn into her room must have been reciprocal.

“Daeryn is a heavy sleeper,” whispered Mary Clare. “He won’t wake. As soon as I rouse Riv, he’ll perk up and you can test your Knack.”

Annmar didn’t need to ask what that meant. She just had to stop her imagination from thinking on it. Mary Clare slipped into Daeryn and Rivley’s room, and Annmar swayed closer, listening for Mary Clare’s signal at the slivered opening in the boys’ doorway. By angling against the doorjamb, she could make out the covers on the far bed lifting and hear Mary Clare’s low call…and then an answering murmur, deeper and sighing and blending into the feminine tones.

Annmar closed her eyes. Despite Rivley’s request that she not draw that portion of his anatomy, Annmar remembered very well what he looked like. It was simple to imagine his naked body using her Knack…

Within seconds, she’d urged her Knack to
keep
Rivley’s parts looking the same as she’d seen last night. No talking sounded from the bedroom for several long, long minutes…then the murmuring resumed. The conversation was brief, and Annmar stumbled back when the door opened. As Mary Clare closed it behind her, Annmar started to mouth, “It worked?” But the redhead’s wide eyes stopped her short. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

Mary Clare tugged her a few steps away, but kept her frowning gaze on the door. “Let him loose, please,” she hissed.

Oh, heavens. What had happened?

Annmar brought up the image of Rivley, dismissing the blue mist gathered over his crotch. They listened, Mary Clare clenching her hands and biting her lip.

Finally, feet hit the floor. Rivley called to Daeryn to get up, sounding normal, if she wasn’t mistaken. Annmar and Mary Clare tiptoed down the hall and pushed into Annmar’s room. “What happened?” she asked again.

“I—uh.” Mary Clare’s lower lip trembled. “That wasn’t nice. Even to help you.” She turned away and brushed back her hair, wiping her cheeks at the same time. “I won’t do that to him again. Ever.”

Annmar pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “So sorry.”

Mary Clare’s ponytail shook. “I shouldn’t have suggested it. But your Knack worked, and now we know it’s a perfect defense. They’ll be ready to go to Market Day in a few minutes.”

Something else had happened in there, but asking again seemed pushy, especially after she’d chided Mary Clare for doing the same thing yesterday. She shouldn’t involve herself in Mary Clare and Rivley’s relationship, but instead focus on the test—which worked. “I did it. Without seeing Rivley, without even being in the same room.”

Mary Clare gave a little sniff. “I don’t suspect that will be the case with Mr. Shearing. Will you be able to do it under the stress of”—she waved her hand in a circling motion—“being close to the louse? Probably being unclothed yourself?”

Would she? Daeryn being naked against her had muddled her head…even clothed he muddled her head. But she wouldn’t feel
that
way with Mr. Shearing. He was very different than the Basin fellow.
My Knack can do this.

A flutter of excitement coursed through Annmar. This wasn’t a foolish undertaking.
Patrice said I’m strong, thriving. And I am.
Shaming the man might teach Mr. Shearing a lesson in manners, but better, leaving with his money would be terribly satisfying.

“I have more control of my Knack now, and this is important, so I’m sure I’ll be able to keep my focus. But to help give me time, I need something to wear that isn’t easy to take off. I was thinking I’d go to Miss Lacey’s.”

Mary Clare gave a nod of approval. “I’ll pack us lunch. And arrange for a ride to the station from her shop, because otherwise it’ll take us forever to walk through Market Day.”

She left. Annmar dressed in her corset and petticoats from Derby and put on her best gown. Her thoughts kept returning to her Knack, what it could do, how it would work on Mr. Shearing as it had on—

Mercy
. She had worked her Knack on someone without permission, the very thing Mary Clare had told her wasn’t accepted in the Basin.
Believe me, you don’t want that reputation.
What reputation? Annmar had been too concerned about the people she was healing to ask. And—dash it all—maybe she better not ask until after she’d learned how Mr. Shearing was… Oh. That’s what he was doing, too. Neither she nor Mary Clare had ever outright said the words, but Mr. Shearing was using his Knack on people. She chewed her lip for a moment. No, she had to ask so she could better understand Basin ways. She would find a moment alone with Mary Clare during the trip.

Annmar gathered a few things into her valise, including the Gateway Proof and half sovereigns she’d stored in the bottom of her trunk. The remainder from her travels here and her week and a half’s pay had to be enough. She didn’t want anyone besides Mary Clare knowing. If it didn’t work—

It had to work. Her Knack could do this.

She snapped the case closed, picked up her satchel with her sketchbook and pencils and drew its strap over her shoulder. She turned to her dresser to collect the last item, her zoolet doodem from Old Terry. The little gray figurine of the squirrel had the most beautifully sculpted bushy tail and held a mushroom in its paws…

A mushroom.
Fungus
.

Annmar started to laugh. “Oh, yes. Old Terry definitely knows something about me.”

* * *

Under Patrice’s tree,
Annmar called until the tree nymph appeared and then asked permission to bless her doodem there.

Patrice kissed her. “Of course, my friend. I am honored.” Patrice took her arm and led her underneath the spreading branches. The leaves fluttered, though there was no breeze. Patrice giggled, her voice high and tinkling. “Excuse me, I’m very excited.” She released Annmar’s arm and backed away, disappearing into her trunk.

Annmar knelt next to a root and scooped out an indentation in the soft soil. The dark earth smelled wonderful, dismissing any worry she had about getting the little squirrel zoolet dirty if Old Terry asked to see it. Annmar laid the squirrel onto the fresh earth and flipped her sketchbook open to the text Daeryn had written.

Prayer of Invitation to Mother Earth
, read the title. She skimmed the rest and then propped the book open beside her.

She read aloud. “With the Great Creator looking fondly upon you, Mother Earth, hear the plea of your servant. Bless me with your favor. If it pleases you, stir within this piece of you I have chosen, a—” A blank space followed. “A squirrel holding a mushroom,” she added before continuing to read, “to accompany me on this stage of my life journey.”

This was where Daeryn said to place her hands over the doodem, so she did—

Annmar gasped. The figurine warmed at her touch. She pressed down firmer to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. A strange feeling washed over her hands, swirling around and over them like the flow of a running brook. As quickly as it came on, the feeling stopped. The warmth receded into the doodem.

Annmar wanted to look, but she had to complete the blessing. “I-I am honored, Mother Earth,” she read from the page. “Thank you for consenting to fill my humble zoolet with your graceful presence. Through it, lead me to sound decisions, joyful acts and respect for all I encounter on the Creator’s Path.”