“Mother? You can’t remember her, surely? Even my own recollections are hazy.”
“I can feel where she would be.” Alana’s touchingly simple statement made my eyes prickle.
Smiling, I poured a cup of water for Alana and passed it towards her. “Me too. I wonder if Father would have been different if she were here?”
Alana sipped her drink with a delicacy I didn’t possess. I glugged mine, much like the men of the village had glugged father’s honey wine the other evening. “He seems so distracted. I remember as a child,” I went to interrupt her to remind her she was still a child, but the dreaminess which stole over her expression stopped me, and I listened intently. “I always thought he was the greatest warrior, watching him walk with his staff and sword, commanding the village.” A troubled cloud passed across her pale face. “Now he mutters and frets, constantly distracted. Worried more with words than the actions of protecting us.”
“Alen and his sons protect us too.” My mouth dried a little at the thought of Tristram and his elder brother. Two men, both very, very different. I knew where my preference laid, even if he was as annoying as a yapping puppy.
Alana’s pale gaze met mine and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s not the same, Mae, and you know it. The bard should lead, guide us with skill and wisdom. Lead us fearlessly into the unknown future.” She hesitated. “I know I may not understand it, probably never will, but Father doesn’t seem to be connected to us the way he once was.”
I mulled over her words. Could I even remember the last time I’d seen him? Spoken to him for any length of time? He left me to the training of Amargen and Elion, two skilled bards who knew their lore and practice, but who had never harnessed the power my father controlled—or had controlled, if my sister’s perceptions were to be believed. “He seems to be amongst the oak trees a lot. Maybe he’s calling for help? Who knows what he can see; his power is his own.” I wasn’t really trying to soothe her worry. I knew Father’s mind could wander. We would never understand what he saw or strived to attain for us.
“I worry.” She twisted her dress between her fingers and gently I eased it from her grasp.
“I think you are the one with the skills of the bard, not me.”
Her wildflower eyes settled on my face. “It’s you, Mae, it’s always been you. Father has never had any doubt that the skill of our people would run in your veins.”
I stared at my hands turning them over. I could sense no skill, no power. Nothing other than confusion and frustration that I couldn’t remember a single thing of my training. Throwing off the depressing thoughts, I clutched the gem under the neckline of my dress.
“Come, cheer yourself,” I said, offering a wide smile. “I’ll go find Father and see what I can find.”
She laughed. “He won’t tell you anything. He’s as wily as a quarry in front of the hunt.”
At the mention of the hunt, my stomach rumbled. “We could do with more good fortune like the deer the other day. I hate for Alen to order a hunt, but we can’t carry on with these levels of supplies.”
Alana cocked an eyebrow and her lips curved. “I’m sure if there is a hunt, there you will be, two steps dutifully behind Tristram, watching his back for wild boar or stray arrows.”
“As is my duty as baduri.”
A snort lifted from her wrinkled-up nose. “Of course, Sister.”
She smiled, her pale lips curving and transforming her face from pretty to beautiful. “Maybe Father is praying to the gods, so you don’t have to go hunting with Tristram again.”
Grinning, I turned her to the door. “Maybe. He’d be much happier if I dedicated the time to my studies.”
I waved her off, and she went to go gather the children ready to give them their lessons, setting them on the damp earth in a circle so she could tell them stories of old magic and the gods. I watched for a while, frowning at the scrawny appearance of the children. Bread wasn’t enough to feed these little mites. Not the loaves we had the ingredients to bake. They needed meat, and more than one doe could provide. Alen would again send a hunting party out, this time maybe for days. I’d joked with Alana, but there was no way Father would allow me to go with them to help.
I shook my head. Tristram had avoided me the last few days since our words over the potent steam, but the thought of him wrestling a wild boar turned my stomach.
A shouted giggle from one of Alana’s little charges spurred me forward, and I went in search of Father, turning my mind off from wasteful thoughts of Tristram.
“Father?” I’d walked the woods under the safety of the oak trees. Still within the borders of our lands I kept my eyes peeled for any unusual activity. Other clans sometimes wandered our way. Sometimes traders. Sometimes people with immoral intentions. We hadn’t been raided since I was a child, although what had happened that night no one spoke of.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips when I caught sight of Father. Standing on a dais of vibrant green weeds, under a crowning oak tree, he looked magnificent, and I paused to enjoy the sight of him. What it would be like to have his knowledge? To have his skills? I didn’t even know how far his true skills went and I was his eldest daughter training to follow him. The life of a bard, of the high priest, was one of mystery and speculation. Some bard’s in history,
