one - there were plenty of hunters and warriors blinking their heavy eyes trying to stay awake. It wasn’t long before the Shaman excused himself, and the Chief offered to send his guests to his own log house for rest. Darian accepted for all of them, and Keisha was glad; beyond the fire the mist was getting heavy, and there would probably be rain before morning. At least tonight they’d sleep dry. And she was too sleepy now to care about anything else.
Morning brought the unfamiliar sounds of children chattering like a tree full of birds near at hand, and Keisha woke all at once, with no intermediate drowsing between dream and wakefulness. She remembered at once where she was, partly because of the rush of unfamiliar smells, and stretched happily beneath her bright (and borrowed) blankets. There was rain pounding on the roof above her head, and from the sound of it, the storm was good for the rest of the day. If they’d been outside, they’d have started the day soaked again.
Would rain keep raiding parties stuck in one place? Now that she wasn’t so tired, she remembered the conversation last night, and it wasn’t just the chill and damp draft sneaking under her chin that made her shiver suddenly. Wolverine tribe - they sounded too much like the tribe that had almost destroyed Errold’s Grove.
Not good news. And we’ll have to get past them to get to Raven. That was worse news; would they have to skulk across the countryside from bit of cover to bit of cover? These raiding parties - how many were there?
I wonder if Dorian wants to use magic to hide us? The existence of another enemy mage made that potentially as dangerous as going unhidden. How did these people rank mages, anyway - and how strong was he, how skilled? Journeyman? Master? Worst of all - Adept? Would they be unfortunate enough to encounter some sort of mage they had never even thought of, whose powers would be a total surprise? She felt anxiety starting to get hold of her, and fought it off. There was no point in getting worried about something that was in the future - something she couldn’t affect, for that matter. It was not that she disliked planning or even speculating, but there was such a thing as pointless worry in a case like this. This wasn’t her problem - or at least, it wasn’t her problem unless and until Darian asked her opinion. For now, her problem was to work with the Shaman - and she really ought to find out what his name was! No, wait. Hank. Henk. Henkeir. Henkeir Told-
True.
That prompted the recollection of her thoughts the night before, about enlisting the help of the dyheli in transferring Healing knowledge directly to the young apprentice, and possibly, (if she could find one) a potential Wisewoman.
Language was at least as complicated as Healing; the problem with transferring it all at once was that Healing involved the use of power, a power very like mage-energy - and it involved using techniques that could leave the Healer’s mind perilously open.
But what else did I think of last night - ah, I remember now. Would it be possible to transfer the knowledge in such a way that it only becomes available when the person needs it -
But no, that wouldn’t work, because they might need it before they were ready to handle it.
Perhaps - it becomes available when the person masters something - keyed to that -
No one had ever tried anything like this before, not that she knew of. But just because no one has ever done it before, that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. . . .
Once again, though, she knew only that she didn’t know enough. She would have to ask the dyheli Neta as she had thought last night, at the very least. Perhaps the Shaman might know something out of his own traditions that would help.
It would be so nice just to go back to sleep and forget this for a little longer, she thought wistfully. It had been so long since she’d had the luxury of sleeping until she felt completely rested -
But now that she was awake, her restless mind wouldn’t let her go back to sleep again. Too much to do. She shoved the thought of drowsing away resolutely, and pushed the blankets aside. Like the log-houses of Ghost Cat, the loghouse of the Chief of Snow Fox had little cubicles around the walls used for storage and sleeping in a modicum of privacy. Presumably because Snow Fox was a very prosperous tribe, the barrier between the cubicle and the rest of the house was not a simple curtain, but was one of the beautiful piecework felt blankets.
It cut off the light from the central hearth fire much better than a cloth curtain would have; it was as dark as a cave in their cozy nest.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the platform bed she shared with Darian, and he stirred. “Getting up?” he asked; he didn’t sound sleepy, and she wondered if he had been awake and thinking as long as she had.
“I’ve got so much I need to do - ” she began “Anything I can help with?” He sat up, too. “I knew you were really concentrating on something, and I wondered what about. You seemed tense.”
“I don’t - ” she began, then stopped as a thought interrupted her. Hadn’t she been thinking that the power she used in Healing was like magic? And hadn’t he added his power to hers in the past? Maybe he had an answer, or part of the answer she was looking for. Quickly, she explained what she had been thinking of doing. “Do
