The Girl In The Red Cloak Ch 06

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Chapter 6

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"Have you been to the big city before, ma'am?" asked the farmer. Clara sat in the front of his cart next to him, ambling down the road. Lukas sat in the back, on the bed of hay the farmer was transporting.

"No, Mr. Dawson, I haven't. My wanderings haven't taken me there." She smiled at him. They'd had a stroke of luck that morning, happening upon Jake Dawson and his lame horse on the country road. Clara had offered to mend the horses leg in exchange for a ride, and the farmer had been only too pleased to accept. Lukas had played his part as the mute manservant. It wasn't common for a Healer to travel with a servant, but there were few who would question a Healer's motives if she chose to do so.

"Just Jake is good enough for me, ma'am," said the farmer, making an awkward half bow from his seated position. The horse, though healed, seemed to be in no particular hurry, and Jake didn't urge the beast on, probably not wanting to risk further injury. Still, it was faster than they'd been on foot. Clara and Lukas had covered good ground the day before, coming out of the forest, but her refusal to let him "borrow" a couple horses - as he put it- kept them from making real progress. She stretched her feet out, enjoying the rest.

"Jake then," she agreed. "Have you been to the capital?"

"Oh aye, a few times. Never very far in, just to market. I usually take my vegetable crop in. Missed it last year, of course, when I was sent to the front again. Oldest boy isn't ready for that journey yet, so had to miss it. Couldn't be helped." He said it matter-of-factly, without a trace of bitterness, but Clara's heart ached for him still. How much this war was costing her people! It only validated her mission with Lukas.

Jake wasn't taking them all the way to the capital, only as far as Glenville, the closest town to the King's home city. It would still be half a day's walk once they reached it, and Clara wasn't at all certain how long it would take to get to Glenville. Lukas would probably know, but until they were alone and he could speak freely, he wouldn't be able to answer. They'd fallen into an uneasy sort of truce, neither antagonizing the other - too much - and both pointedly ignoring the sexual tension between them. They'd slept near each other last night, close but not touching. Well, truth be told Clara hadn't slept much. She'd tried, but she could sense Lukas close to her, hear his breathing, and had to fight against her lustful thoughts that urged her to roll over and sit astride him, wiggle her hips and tantalize him. The only thing that stopped her was the still raw pain of rejection. He'd made no secret of that fact that he was not interested in her that way, and her pride couldn't handle another refusal.

The countryside was rather dull as they passed by, only farmland after farmland, broken up by the occasional cottage. She wished they'd had to through the marshes, or by the sea, at least that would provide something interesting to look at. Jake, though kind, seemed quite content to sit and stare ahead, making little conversation. Clara found herself wistfully thinking of Lukas's wit, even his acerbic remarks, anything to break up the tedium and distract her from her thoughts.

Her mind skipped back and forth between fear for the future of this quest and lustful thoughts of Lukas. Neither was conducive to relaxation. Would they both survive this? What would it feel like to have Lukas buried inside of her? Would their mission even be successful? If it was, and they had the opportunity to rest up afterwards, would Lukas bed her then? She shook her head to clear it. Being in a state of lust and worry was nearly as exhausting as healing.

"How old is Snowy?" she asked Jake, indicating his horse.

He seemed surprised that she was talking to him again, but amiably replied that the horse was about five summers. They fell into silence again. Snowy plodded along, and Clara wondered if she should stop and pour a little more healing into his leg. She'd knitted it nearly whole, to a safe level, but maybe just a little more would spur the beast onward a touch faster. She decided against it, choosing to save her strength for the unknown future.

Clara glanced over her shoulder at Lukas. He was sprawled across the hay, hands under his head, and eyes closed. Was he

napping

? Did the man have no fear, no worries for the peril he was facing? He seemed to be sound asleep, soaking in the afternoon sunshine, as if he too was a farmer merely on his way to market. She fought the urge to prod him awake. It was a childish impulse, but seeing him so calm while her emotions somersaulted was aggravating. It must have something to do with his training. Healers were taught only to calm their concern for others when they tended the sick and dying, not their own worries. A soldier must sleep where he could, through any situation.

As though he could feel her gaze upon him, Lukas turned his head and opened his eyes. He gave her a wink before she flushed at being caught and turned away. Hopefully he would correctly interpret her glances as making sure he hadn't fallen off the back of the cart, and not anything else. Gods, how many leagues till Glenville?

** **

Jake the farmer waved goodbye to his traveling companions, having deposited them safely on the steps of the inn. It had been a slightly awkward ride for him, unaccustomed as he was to people of importance, and in his mind there could be no one of greater importance than a Healer. If she also happened to be a Healer who saved his best cart-horse from a certain death - for there was no sense in keeping a lame horse - well, so much the better. He clucked at Snowy and guided him through the cramped streets toward the market. If it was a bit later in the day than usual for deliveries, well it was still better than no sales at all.

His buyer at the market was quite relieved to see him, too. "Gods, Jakey, thought you'd changed your mind and decided to wait for a bigger crop after all!"

"No, sorry about that, Sam," Jake helped himself to a pitchfork and began to move the hay from cart to stable.

"You're lucky I didn't accept Luther's load earlier. He was keen to get rid of it and get back home, but I says to him, 'A deal's a deal,' and I waited for you." Sam took a fork as well and began to help.

"Much obliged to you," said Jake. "Poor Snowy lost his footing, the bugger couldn't walk at all. I thought we were done for, till the Healer came along."

"Oh, aye? A Healer?" Sam looked interested. "Fixed Snowy up, did she? Not many as will do that."

"Aye, and all she wanted was a ride out of it, for her and her manservant. Big brute of a fellow, but didn't talk at all. Mute."

"Huh," Sam said, and then focused his attention on the business at hand.

By the time the cart was emptied, both men were perspiring and thirsty. "Fancy a pint of something before you hit the road home?" asked Sam.

Jake studied the sky. He usually didn't wait so late to leave, not wanting to be on the roads late at night, but he was feeling cheerful at his good fortune, and decided one celebratory drink couldn't hurt. The men wiped their faces on a horse blanket and crossed the road to the tavern. Jake thought he saw furtive movement in the growing shadows behind the barn, but dismissed it as a trick of the light.

The tavern was warm and smelled of old beer and old sweat, with a touch of horse. The lass behind the bar gave them a broad smile as they entered and drew two pours before they'd even taken a seat. Jake caught his mug as she slid it down the counter to him and took a long draught. There was nothing like a refreshing bit of ale after a long day. Sam drained his in a single large gulp, and slid it back to the lass for refilling.

"How's the missus?" Sam asked. Jake regaled him with tales of Sally's new garden plot and her pet project of radishes, which led to discussions of the children and another round of drinks. Sam was deep in a humorous story about his youngest and the dairy cow when the men walked in. The whole bar hushed.

It was obvious they weren't from anywhere near Glenville. With their swarthy coloring they might have been Maharians, if it was possible for a Maharian to be so near the capital city. Most likely they had some lineage in their bloodline, but for a full-blooded Maharian to be this deep in Lotharis was unthinkable, unless they were very old indeed. The tallest man headed to the bar, flanked by two shorter but still imposing companions.

"Hello, friend," the tall man said. He smiled. "My friends and I are visiting from the marshes." His voice sounded strange, putting emphasis on the wrong spots in the words, and drawing out other parts. Perhaps that was what Marshlanders accents sounded like. They were such a withdrawn lot, not many people had spoken to them.

"My brother has taken ill," continued the tall man, "and we are in need of a Healer. He is so young, and we are very worried."

"Might check with the apothecary's," suggested the barmaid, coyly lowering her lashes and pushing her bosom up for the handsome man. "They usually make a stop in there for herbs."

"Ah, wonderful. We'll be sure to check there. I just hope we can find one quickly enough. He isn't a big strong lad like his brother." The man grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's such a sad sight to see, when children are ill."

"Well, hey, Jakey here brought one into town earlier, didn't you?" Sam turned to Jake for confirmation. "Didn't you?"

"Aye," Jake said slowly. He didn't know why, but he was reluctant to give this man the Healer's whereabouts.

"Here in town? How fortunate," the strange man said. "Please, where may we find her?" He looked at Jake expectantly, as did his companions, Sam, and the barmaid.

What harm could there be in sharing her location? Healers cured the sick, it's what they existed for, and he'd never heard of anyone attacking or injuring a Healer. "The inn," he replied, still hesitant.

"Which inn, good sir? Please, my brother," pleaded the tall man.

"The Red Pony," Jake decided it must be the drink making him suspicious. The Healer would no doubt be thrilled to help a child, and she'd be safe enough from most things with that silent lurker at her side. "Just across town," he elaborated.

"Thank you, Friend," the tall man smiled again, and Jake quelled his concern. Marshdwellers were probably just not used to the manners of common folk. That must be the sense of unease he felt. Jake nodded and turned back to his ale. The three men swept out of the tavern quickly, and conversations resumed, the buzz of voices humming around like bees.

Sam picked up his story where he'd left off, but Jake couldn't focus. The gnawing feeling in his gut kept eating at him till he'd quieted it with a few more mugs of ale.

** ***

Clara tucked in to the stew greedily, feeling drained after the ministrations of the day. Although a Healer was given free lodging, the implication was that she'd earn her keep through healing, and it had been a couple weeks since a Healer had been through this part of the town, so there were plenty of small matters for her to tend to. She was grateful there had been no major issues. She wanted to save energy for the future, but the healing instinct would overwhelm that desire as soon as she saw someone ill or suffering. The innkeeper placed a loaf fresh bread on the table and smiled at her hunger.

"Eat up, miss, there's plenty more where that came from!" He produced a hunk of cream-colored cheese to set beside the bread, and Clara thanked him profusely, savoring every mouthful of the warm food after the last few days of increasingly stale, old bread. Her stomach gurgled happily, and she blushed, realizing Lukas was staring at her across the table.

"Healing works up an appetite," she explained. "The energy has to come from somewhere." Lukas nodded, taking a spoonful of his own bowl of stew. Clara had tried to teach him how to hide his Maharian accent the day before, but he was a hopeless student, and in the end they'd decided to carry on with the mute charade. The innkeeper had accepted her story without blinking an eye, far more focused on having Clara look at the rash on his son's arm - only poison oak, she'd given him an herb salve and cautioned the boy against playing in the underbrush - and settled Clara and Lukas into a small but cozy room near the kitchen. The heat from the oven seeped through, creating a warm, heavy aura, and she was very much looking forward to sleeping on a bed, out of the chilly night air.

There was only one bed, and she wondered how it would be, sharing an actual bed with Lukas. Of course, she wouldn't make a fool of herself by repeating the mistakes of before, but still she couldn't help but recall that having a bed had been one of the stipulations he'd thrown out when he refused her the first time. Would it matter that they had one now? The forest had been wide open with ample area for separation, but the bed was small - quite small.

Lukas was staring at her again. She realized she was dreamily stirring her bread into her stew, and tried to cover her thoughts by tossing it into her mouth. Gods, that was hot! Her mouth dropped open as she fruitlessly waved her hand in front of her, trying to fan her tongue cool. Lukas laughed at her. Not out loud, but with his eyes, she could see it in the way they danced and the corners of his mouth quirked up.

"Oh, shut up," she murmured, taking a swig of cider. It was unfair that he didn't even need words to mock her! How much more would he laugh if he knew what she'd been thinking?

He will never, ever know.

The stew was cooling, and Clara focused on cleaning her bowl, alternating bites with bread and cheese. Lukas did the same, appearing lost in his thoughts - though he was constantly scanning the room, taking in his surroundings. A habit born of long caution and nurtured through his dangerous missions, she guessed. What other missions had his princess sent him on? This was an incredibly important one to have trusted to a novice; he must have previous experience.

I'll ask him about that tomorrow. It should be a good topic to keep us both distracted from other, less helpful thoughts.

With the food finished, Clara grew sleepy, the result of a hot dinner on the heels of a long day. So much the better, if she was tired enough to go to sleep right away, there would be no awkward tossing and turning and listening to Lukas breathing next to her. Far better to slip off into a peaceful slumber and rest while she had the chance. Lukas pushed back his chair and rose from the table.

"Ready to retire, Red?" he inquired. She nodded sleepily, taking his outstretched hand and letting him lead her down the hall to their room. He opened the door and waved her in. "Sleep tight," he said, and turned away.

"You're not coming?" she was surprised and more disappointed than she ought to be, and put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Not yet. I'll be along later. You need your rest."

"I don't mind if you come now. I'll sleep fine." Oh gods, did that sound as if she was desperate for his attention? "But do as you like," she recovered, and made to turn away. He stopped her, gave her a half smile, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her stomach melted into butterflies.

"I will be back. I just need to check in with my contact. Do you need anything before I go?"

You, just you.

"No," she stuttered. "I'm fine." He released her and headed back down the hall. Was that a stupid grin on her face? It was. "Clara, you idiot," she whispered, and shut the bedroom door.