Death & Magic (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Death & Magic chapter 18

Perinar went to the door in the left-hand wall and squinted through the keyhole. Adramal held her breath as he turned the handle. The hinges squealed as he pulled the door open.

She half-expected to see Lorgrim standing there. Instead there was only a narrow gravel path, winding its way among unkempt grass. Here and there were aggregations of stone that she guessed had been smashed from the outer wall during the siege.

They stepped into the open. Perinar closed the door, and they leaned against it, panting.

“Now,” he said after a few moments, “if anyone sees us, we can pretend we’ve been somewhere else.”

Their eyes met, and he gazed at her so intently that it seemed it would hurt to look away.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“For what?”

“For... for keeping your head back there.”

He pushed his fringe back. As she’d thought, he was much more handsome like that. “It was nothing, really,” he said, as if he spied on his teachers every day.

He dropped his hand to his side, and the back of it brushed against hers. On an impulse, she gripped it. His eyes widened, and she let go, as if she’d been burned. She folded her arms.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning her face away. Stupid, stupid girl. You’re not supposed to do it like that. What makes you think he’s interested in you anyway?

He touched her elbow. She looked at him. His fringe had flopped forward again, but he still gazed at her as if he could think of nothing he’d rather be doing. He held out his hand.

Slowly, Adramal reached out to clasp Perinar’s hand — more gently this time. It was damp with sweat — or was that hers? His smooth, soft fingers folded around hers, warm and reassuring. She looked into his eyes as if nothing else existed.

After an eternity, she became aware of something rubbing the side of her index finger. It had taken her a while to work out where she was being touched, as it made her tingle all over. She tore her gaze away from Perinar’s beautiful eyes — one of the hardest things she’d ever done — and looked down. He stopped stroking her with his thumb even as she did so.

When she looked up at him, his face was a lot nearer to hers than it had been a few moments ago. His lips were moist, slightly parted. Their breathing quickened. Her knees felt as though they would give way at any moment. But it would be all right. He would catch her if she fell.

A bell rang, loud and insistent. Adramal slipped and lost her balance, landing heavily on her back. Perinar winced, as if he felt the impact more than her. She scrambled to her feet and brushed the dirt off.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No. That was third watch — I mean eighth hour, wasn’t it?”

He nodded glumly, evidently thinking the same as her.

“We’d better go to the library before it closes, then, and see if we can find a herbal with that plant in.”

He led her over the grass, past the walled garden and the stables. Periodically, his hand brushed hers, and he smiled hopefully. She smiled back, but didn’t take his hand. She knew if she did, she’d want to take him to a secluded corner and kiss him until dawn.

When she’d rebuffed him for the fourth or fifth time, his smile faded, and he moved a short distance away.

Lelsarin elbowed her way into Adramal’s thoughts. Hold his damned hand, then, but keep walking. Ask him about what happened in the garden. That ought to take your mind off how pretty he is.

Adramal took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I... I don’t... someone might be watching.”

“Oh!” His smile returned. “I see. Apprentices hardly ever come here.”

“What about servants?”

He gawked, as if she’d said, “What about trees?” He stood up straighter and replied, “Maybe things are different in Thuren, but here, a servant can be dismissed for gossiping about his masters, and it’s very hard for him to find another tenure after that.” He spoke as if making someone unable to earn a living was something to be proud of.

“Yes,” she said, “things are different. We don’t have servants.”

“Oh!” He looked around, and she wondered if he thought she was playing a joke on him. “Who does the work, then?”

She shrugged. “Everybody.”

“Including you?”

“Including me.” She held up her hands, palms outwards. “You must have noticed my hands are rougher than yours.” He nodded. “You don’t mind, do you?” Everyone was conscious of their place in the world, but people around here seemed to be more aware of it than most. She dropped her arms to her sides and looked down. Then she extended her hand a few inches towards him.

“Mind?” he said as he slid his hand into hers. “Why would I mind?”

She smiled and resumed walking. “No idea,” she said. Their arms swung back and forth in time with their footsteps.

Oh, very nicely done, said Lelsarin. Her usual sarcasm when she said something like that was tinged with admiration. Now ask him about what happened in the damned garden. I want to know, even if you don’t.

It was rare for Lelsarin to admit to wanting anything, except perhaps to be left alone. “I was thinking...” Adramal said.

“Yes?” said Perinar, turning his head towards her.

How lovely your eyes are, she very nearly said. She glanced around, seeing no one. “What do you think Eskalyn and Lorgrim were doing?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

The curtness of his answer made her wonder if he was lying. He couldn’t know anything about the murders, could he? “Any idea what was in the satchels?”

“No.”

They passed the stables. A two-wheeled carriage was parked at one side of the building. They rounded a corner of the middle ward, and came to the gatehouse. A servant came out of the gatehouse and bowed his head to them as he walked past. “Look, it’s none of our business. We shouldn’t have been there. I suggest you forget about it.”

Her mouth hung open, poised for some clever retort. But no. He had no clue why she was really here. And she mustn’t give him any reason to suspect. “To the library, then,” she said demurely.