Zia entered the cottage with a flourish and a smile.
“You missed Artair,” Bethane said.
Neither her flourish or smile faltered. It was not her way. Life was too precious to waste on disappointment and too short not to enjoy.
“I’ll find him, though Nessie prefers your company,” Zia said, and plopped down at the table to join her grandmother in her morning oatmeal porridge drizzled with honey.
Bethane patted the dog’s head. “She’s grown attached to me.”
“I’d say so. She follows you all over and listens to you much better than she does Artair.”
“She has a mind of her own and I understand that,” Bethane said, and received a lick from the dog.
“How is the warrior?”
“Surprisingly, he continues to sleep and heal.”
“Good,” Zia said with a firm nod. “I hoped and prayed for his recovery.”
“Artair heals as well, though in a different way, and will seek more questions,” Bethane said.
Zia scooped up a spoonful of porridge. “He already has. He asked who brought his brother here.”
“And?”
“I spoke the truth. I told him a friend.”
Bethane nodded. “That is the truth, but we both know there is more to it, and when he discovers—”
“I will tell him when the time is right,” Zia said. “Do you know where he is?”
“He has gone to speak with his men. What do you think of Artair?”
Zia rested her elbow on the edge of the table and her chin in the palm of her hand. She tapped her cheek with her fingers while thinking over her grandmother’s question. She knew Bethane would not rush an answer out of her. She would want her to think it through and reach a sensible conclusion.
She sputtered at the silly thought of thinking it through and being sensible and laughed out loud, “He’s gorgeous!”
Bethane nodded. “I thought as much. Have you looked inside him yet?”
“There’s goodness there.” She scratched her head. “But he has an overly sensible nature and a strong responsibility to duty.”
“Good qualities,” her grandmother assured.
Zia shrugged. “He knows nothing of passion.”
“You could teach him.”
Zia’s grin grew large. “I plan to.”
After finishing breakfast with her grandmother, Zia went straight to the see how the barbarian was doing. Bethane would be busy making the rounds of the village, visiting with the women whose birthing time was near.
The women of the village took time to sit with the ill and those recovering so that Bethane and Zia would be free to tend others. Zia had long ago found that being a healer had benefits and one of those was the many friendships she formed with women and the ease with which they spoke. It was also how she had learned so much about men, women and sex. Women openly discussed intimacy, some fearing there was something wrong with them because they enjoyed it so much while others complained that they couldn’t stand it. The many chats had helped her to help other women and to better understand her own desires.
Tara, a robust woman with a gentle smile, who often spoke candidly with her, was busy working on a piece of embroidery while the barbarian slept.
“Has he stirred?” Zia asked, placing a tender hand to his head. There was no trace of fever, which boded well for him.
“He’s rested soundly,” Tara said, gathering her things.
“You gave him the broth?”
“On schedule. You will look after him now?” Tara asked.
Zia nodded. “I will keep an eye on him while I tend to any who seek healing today.”
It was busier than usual, a few scrapes, an abrasion that required stitches, a stomach ailment that actually had Zia concerned, and Artair showing up worried over one of his men.
“It’s James. He’s complained of these ailments before but no healer has been successful in helping him.”
“Bring him here,” Zia said, not doubting his word, not thinking that he just wished one of his men in the village. He would not do that. Concern showed on his face, and he’d sought her permission first.
The stout man was in agony when Artair hurried him into the healing cottage. Zia saw to him immediately, concerned for the man she had enjoyed fishing with.
She questioned him and learned that his stomach problem occurred on a regular basis. She mixed a combination of herbs and had him drink the potion. It was sweet tasting so he made no objection.
In minutes his stomach soothed and he smiled. “It feels better,” James said rubbing his healed stomach in amazement.
At that moment a painful roar filled the air and Zia dropped the cup in her hand and rushed to the other room, Artair and James following.