problems.
Havens, people are taking such care these days that I never even see an infected puncture anymore!
She dropped all of her soiled clothing from the trip into the basket-hamper they kept for the purpose just outside the bathing-room door. She stripped off the tunic and trews she wore, and added them to the pile, then entered the bathing room. In the echoing room, tiled floor-to-ceiling, she knelt beside the square tub sunken into the floor and drew herself a bath. They had hot water now, although it came from a tank perched up in a tree, shared by several other ekele and heated by the sun rather than by magic.
Maybe we’ll get that, too, in a few years, though it seems a pity to waste the sun’s heat when it costs us nothing. She was no mage, but she was acutely sensitive to the cost in magical energies of every act of magic. Living here in a new Vale as much as living with Darian had made her very aware of such things. Darian was in superb physical shape, even to a Healer’s eyes, and when she saw the physical exhaustion he bore after some of his lessons, she had no doubts remaining about magic’s costs.
When the tub was full, she added herbs and scented salts, and soothing fragrance rose in the steam that condensed on the leaves of the vines planted in boxes around the skylight above her. She eased into the tub, to just over her breasts, and soaked for a good long time, allowing herself to run through all of the emotions she had repressed. Nightwind had told her that holding them in did no good and much harm, so she let them run their course. Disappointment led to anger, which gave way in turn to a seething despair.
What am I doing with myself? Nothing, that’s what! Is Mother right? Am I going to die a cross old maid, lonely and abandoned? How long is it going to be before this makes me sour, and Darian gets tired of me and starts looking for a prettier girl? It was going to happen; she was just sure of it. Then what?
Then, I suppose, I’ll go back to my little house in the village. Eventually they’ll start to treat me the way they treated Justyn. . . .
A hard lump of self-pity rose in her throat, a sob that she choked down lest one of the hertasi was about. If they caught her in this mood, they’d be upset and concerned, and entirely sure it was their fault that she was unhappy.
The hertasi like me anyway. . . .
She couldn’t get herself out of this mood; it felt as if she had fallen into a pit and was too tired to climb out. She squeezed out a few bitter tears, a distillation of it all, and then, suddenly, felt much better. It was as if those few tears had taken all of her self-pity with them.
Not that crying had changed anything.
But with the tears out, she started to think past them, realizing how silly she would have sounded to anyone else, and in a moment, she laughed weakly at her own absurd thoughts. In the very worst case, it’s not as if I would lose everything! Even if Darian gets tired of me, we’ll still be friends, I’d still be a full Healer, and I’m entitled to ask to be sent wherever I want. And Shandi is coming back, so how bad can things be, really? Darian gave no hint that he had lost interest in her, anyway - so why was she borrowing trouble?
Worry about that when the time comes, if it ever happens at all. And if it does - well, there’s no reason why I can’t exchange positions with one of the Sanctuary Healers, is there? I’ll bet one of them would be willing to take over the village for a few months’ rest! Or even longer - there’s no telling how any of those Trainees are going to turn out, and if any of them turns out like old Gil Jarred, with a weak Gift, then Errold’s Grove is the right place for him and I can take his place in the Sanctuary permanently. That will give me plenty of excitement! The very fact that she had come up with an alternative to moldering in the village cheered her up immensely.
So what if Darian has more and more duties - and Firesong keeps heaping him with more complicated lessons. I might end up being sent off by the Healer’s Circle, too - things happen. Crying about them before they’ve happened isn’t going to stop them.
She stopped herself before she could step off the edge again, and fall into that pit of depression. I think I’d better talk to Nightwind.
She scrubbed off the sweat and dirt of the journey, feeling as if she was scrubbing away all her frustrations as well. She washed her hair, then ran more clean water for a thorough rinse. Sometimes it seemed like water was her best friend of all; it was nearly impossible to feel too badly when in a refreshing soak or a warm rain. When she emerged from the bathing room, cleansed and wrapped in thick towels, she found that one of the hertasi had been in the bedroom before her, and had laid out - a garment she didn’t recognize.
What - Havens, what is this?
She lifted one sleeve of the dress that had been put out for her to don. A springlike leaf green, it was absolutely charming - of light Tayledras-made silk with billowing sleeves caught into long cuffs, and a high collar. Both collar and cuffs were ornamented with silver embroidery, and there was a second, sleeveless gown of a slightly heavier weight in a darker green to wear over it. This sleeveless gown had a beautiful embroidery of silver- thread vines, leaves, and flowers running from the left shoulder to the hem, and all around the bottom.
This was not the simple green tunic-and-trews she had expected. She did not recall that there had been anything special planned for her return.
