Then the image of a copper-haired youth stormed through her mind, all flashing eyes and scowls.
"There'd be trouble with Ruari," she admitted aloud.
"If there was going to be trouble with Ruari, it would have happened by now. He hasn't said anything since Pavek invoked the guardian. We all felt it. Ru wasn't happy, but he couldn't very well argue after that."
Fragrant steam rose from the pot, restoring her more thoroughly, more gently than her contact with the living pole of her hut. She was tired. Pavek's determination combined with his lack of progress made him an exhausting pupil. Moreover, Pavek slept soundly each night while she pondered the problems he'd brought out of Urik. Ruari might not argue with Quraite's guardian, but she did, every night.
The guardian didn't care about Urik or the aches and pains of common folk. When the guardian caught the drift of Laq, it was ready to destroy all the zarneeka bushes in Quraite, and with them the sole source of Ral's Breath. Telhami believed there had to be a solution that did not punish the commoners. But she'd need the guardian's help to find it, and thus far that help had not been forthcoming.
She looked up from her tea and studied Akashia as she stood beside the center pole, apprehension and eagerness written on her face... and anger. Kashi said she'd been summoned; Telhami had no reason to doubt and-as the tea warmed her from the inside out-every reason to believe that her own deeper wisdom, working through her own dreams, had done the summoning.
"Take Pavek to your grove, Kashi. If that fails, put him to work in the fields."
A third of the night remained before the sun's red glow colored the eastern horizon and Pavek began his daily trek to Telhami's grove. Akashia had ample time to fetch her cloak from her hut, and with it secured around her shoulders, she settled on a hard bench in easy sight of the bachelor's hut.
By dawn, when the woven-reed door opened and Pavek stretched himself into the open air, she was chilled to the bone, despite her cloak, and consumed by doubts. Her voice failed when she first called his name, and it quavered the second time, too. He stopped short at the corner of the hut and stayed where he was, waiting for her rather than coming over.
"Telhami's resting today. I'm taking you to my grove instead."
All her doubts and shivers hadn't prepared her for the slack-jawed frown that hung, suddenly from Pavek's face.
"You don't need to look so happy."
"Is this your choice? If Telhami's tired-"
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I've held the door for other beginners; I can hold it for you."
They left the village together, Akashia's progress through Quraite's mysteries didn't yet permit her to ride the guardian's power from one part of the oasis to another, as Telhami did. Curiosity overcame her reservations-she'd had few opportunities to talk with someone who lived inside the massive yellow walls of Urik, and none at all with anyone who'd lived a templar's life. She peppered him with questions that he answered with grunts and shrugs. In equal parts frustration and compassion, she let the one-sided conversation die. Pavek, who could have easily kept pace with her, fell a good fifteen steps behind and remained there until the rippling green meadow of her grove spread before them.
Watching from the corner of her eye, she waited for his reaction. Quraite's children most often bounded into the air, squealing with delight, or plunged face-first into the sweet-smelling wildflowers she nurtured. Pavek got a few paces into the waist-high grass and stopped cold.
"Where's the path? I don't know where I'm walking. I can't see my feet. I might step in the wrong place."
Not a child, Akashia thought ruefully, and not a man, either, but broken. "There is no wrong place, Pavek," she called, then added with a mischievous laugh: "Unless you make it wrong."
He chewed uncomfortably on that, and she came close to shame for teasing him. But this was her grove-her special place in all Athas-and being here filled her with a joy that banished everything else.
"Stop worrying! Open your eyes, your heart, and relax___
Start moving!"
Pavek stayed where he was.
"Race me to the center!"
"Is that a command?" he demanded, fists resting on his hips. "A part of today's lesson?"
Broken. Just-Plain Pavek was definitely broken. The essence of druidry was wild and reckless, on the verge of danger, like the land itself. He'd never master it if he thought in terms of commands and obedience.
"Yes! The only lesson, if you can't catch me."
She was light-footed and began with a ten-pace lead, but she could hear the grass parting and snapping beneath his sandals as she entered the stand of trees she'd inherited from the grove's earlier druids. Elves were one thing; she knew she couldn't outrun an elf, or Ruari, for that matter. But a heavy-footed human male? It was embarrassing, and she leaned into the longest stride she could manage until she was a step short of her grove's bottomless pool. Then, taking a deep breath, she dived into the water, a mere-but significant-half-step ahead of him.
She expected Pavek to be in the water behind her, but he was bent over at the edge of the water, pale and panting.
"Water's deep. Can't swim."
Akashia pulled herself out of the pool. She sat on a rock, wringing water from her hair, berating herself for taunting Pavek. It was discourteous, and dangerous-even when she could call upon the guardian's power. And it would have been avoidable, if he'd been willing to answer any of her questions about life in Urik.
"No lesson?" he asked.
She began a damp braid before giving Pavek a narrow-eyed look. Sweat flowed down the ugly scar on his cheek, and his ribs still heaved. He hadn't even slaked his thirst. For all of her unfairness, there wasn't a trace of anger or outrage in his expression, only a hint of disappointment in the slope of his shoulders.
"Should I leave? I can find my way back to the village."
"Pavek! Don't leave. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" His head tilted toward a rising shoulder. "Why be sorry? You made the game. You made the rules. You won. Druid lore is safe for another day. Don't worry-I'll be careful; I'll stay out of sight. Telhami won't know, unless you tell her." He started away from the pool.
The half-finished braid slipped through her fingers as she stood. She caught up with him under the trees.
"First lesson: There are no rules in druidry. It's nature-all flow and change. Don't be afraid to let go. And don't leave; I am sorry." She wanted to pat his arm. Quraiters touched each other when they were happy, sad, or anxious. But she hesitated before touching a templar.
Pavek shied away. "I don't understand." He sidestepped toward the village. "Magic is magic. I've read the scrolls; the spells are the same. There must be rules."
"Come to the pool, I'll show you."
This time she didn't hesitate. She wrapped her hands firmly around his wrist and dragged him to the pool like a stupid-stubborn erdlu.
"There are good ways and bad ways," she explained, once she had him moving on his own. "Ways that usually work, and ways that usually don't. You practice what's reliable, but when push comes to shove, you do what you have to do."
He stopped short, and they nearly collided. "Druidry's like fighting?"
She frowned. "I hope not." The thought that combat might be as free and formless as druidry was truly frightening. Before they started taking zarneeka to Urik, Yohan had taught her a few tricks of open hand fighting-in case they ran into trouble. She'd practiced the moves exactly the way Yohan taught them and had been confident that she was fully prepared for the unexpected. It hadn't occurred to her, until now, that a true opponent might be unpredictable.