Under the Highlander's Spell(72)
“Do you both wait for me?” she asked, taking bread and meat from the platter in the center of the table.
“Yes, we do,” Cavan said directly.
“Can we talk while I eat?” she asked, looking around the empty hall. “No one is about to hear our conversation.”
Cavan nodded and sat opposite from them at the table.
“First,” Zia said, before Cavan could say anything. “The village Black is a healing village, which means we heal the ill, the injured, the suffering. We do not care whether friend or foe, a person in need of healing receives it at our village, just as your brother did.”
Cavan nodded. “Fair enough, though I believe you should be more conscious of who you choose to heal.”
“If that were the case, we might not have chosen to heal your brother.”
“Why not? Ronan is a good, loyal Scotsman.”
“Brought to our doorstep by a barbarian,” Zia said, knowing the news would shock them both, but realizing it was time for them to know what she could safely divulge without causing problems for others. They needed to understand that not all those they believed to be their enemies were their enemy.
“What do you mean?” Cavan demanded.
“Just what I said,” she confirmed. “A barbarian brought your brother to the village.”
“Are you familiar with this barbarian?” Artair asked.
Zia nodded, finishing the bread she’d been chewing, then reaching for the tankard of mulled cider.
“He’s been to your village before?” Cavan asked.
She nodded again, knowing she could divulge only so much about the person; after all, she had given her word.
“Why has this barbarian been to your village before?” Cavan asked.
“That’s obvious,” Zia said. “We are a healing village. He brings to us those in need of healing.”
“Barbarians kill without regard to anyone not even their own kind. They do not concern themselves with healing,” Cavan said. “Are you sure he is a barbarian?”
“I asked the same myself,” Zia admitted.
“And did you get an answer?” Artair asked.
“No, I never did.”
“Perhaps he wasn’t a barbarian at all but someone who had once been captured by the barbarians,” Cavan said, as if trying to make sense of it.
“No, he was born a barbarian, of that there is no doubt,” she assured him.
“How would you know?” Artair asked.
Zia recalled first meeting the barbarian. “There was no mistaking it. The strength, the courage, but most of all the fearlessness in the eyes; this person would let nothing stand in his way.”
“What did he say when he brought Ronan to you?” Cavan asked.
Zia looked from one brother to the other. “Heal him; he is a great warrior.”
The two brothers grew silent, and Zia could see that they fought to contain their emotions. She wished she could ease their pain, for she felt it herself.
“I need to go now,” she said, and stood.
“One more question,” Cavan said.
She waited.
“Did this barbarian have something to do with my brother’s sudden departure?”
Her response was simple and yet so much more complicated. “No.”
“You are sure?” Cavan demanded.
“I am sure,” Zia said firmly. “Now may I go?”
Cavan stared at her. “There is something you do not tell me.”
“Have you ever given your word to someone?” she asked.
Cavan nodded. “Many times.”
“And you have kept your word,” she said, not for a minute doubting he had.
“Of course. A man’s word is his honor.”
“Though I am a woman, I feel the same. When I give my word, I keep it,” she said, standing tall, her chin high.
“You gave your word to a barbarian and you wish me to honor it?” Cavan asked incredulously.
“It is my honor I wish you to respect.”
Cavan looked from Zia to Artair, then stood.
“Talk to your wife,” Cavan ordered and walked away.
“I have work to see to,” Zia said, and turned to leave.
Artair stopped her, taking hold of her arm. “We need to discuss this. While I will always defend you, I cannot defend your keeping information from us about Ronan.”
“I keep none that is of consequence.”
“That is for us to judge.”
Zia slipped her arm from his grasp, his warm imprint still tingling her flesh. “I would do nothing to jeopardize your brother’s safety or delay you from finding him. I have confided everything I know that would help you in your search.”
“But one thing—the barbarian’s identity,” Artair said.