Rose stopped abruptly, staring at the door. Gillian had been watching her sister sympathetically, wishing there were some way to ease this burden she carried. She followed her sister’s distracted gaze until it rested on their uncle Roderick.
He stood in the open door, his muscular frame filling the width of it. His long red hair was pulled back and secured at his nape. He wore Lowland riding clothes—leather breeks and a fine leather mantle.
“Uncle Roderick!” Gillian cried, jumping up and running to the door. “When did you return?” He’d been on some errand in the east.
He gave her a quick hug and peck on the cheek before turning his censorious gaze back to Rose. “Could you be a bit quieter? Your da and I can hear every word you say.”
Color flamed in Rose’s cheeks as she turned away, muttering something beneath her breath. She shot Gillian a look before sitting back down to her books.
Roderick gazed at Rose’s rigid back, his ruddy browcreased with worry. “Your sister is right. You’re being too hard on yourself. The best physicians in Scotland have seen your father, and none of them know what to do. As for the Northern Wizard, we don’t want him here. He’ll bring naught but trouble.” He paused, as if waiting for a response, but Rose feigned interest in her books, ignoring Roderick completely. He sighed and shook his head, giving Gillian a raised-brow look.
He smiled suddenly, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ve some good news, though. I’ve brought back the healer Lord Kincreag sent for several months ago—the one from Spain. He’s an infidel, mind you, but we’ve tried everything else, aye? What have we to lose?”
“Indeed!” Gillian said, pleased that Lord Kincreag had done such a thing.
“Come, he’s examining your father now.” To Rose he said, “Maybe he’ll teach you something new, aye?”
When Roderick was gone, Gillian scowled at her sister. “What is the matter with you? You were very rude to Uncle Roderick.”
Rose waved this away impatiently. “We’ve been fighting about the Wizard of the North for weeks now. He thinks it’s too dangerous. I don’t.”
“He’s probably right. Maybe you should forget about this wizard. I have a bad feeling about it.”
“Well, if you were Isobel I might heed your bad feelings, but since you’re not, I think I’ll be writing the wizard another letter.”
If Rose had slapped her, it couldn’t have hurt worse. Isobel was a seer. She could foretell the future or see thepast by touching things. Rose’s reminder that Gillian was an outsider in her own family stung.
“I’m sorry,” Rose said, immediately abashed and looking at Gillian anxiously. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She sighed, covering her face with her hands. “I know Uncle Roderick means well, but he doesn’t understand, and neither do you. I think this man can help Da.”
“Then write him,” Gillian said coolly, still wounded from Rose’s remark. “I’ll not stop you, or inform on you.”
Before Rose could say anything else, Gillian left the study and entered her father’s bedchamber.
Several people crowded around the bed. Gillian’s eyes were drawn first to Lord Kincreag. He stood back from the rest, arms crossed over his chest, watching the proceedings with his customary frown in place. He nodded to Gillian in greeting. His enigmatic eyes lingered on her a moment before returning to the bed.
Hagan and Roderick were both there, warily watching the strange little man who leaned over Alan. Encouraged by Kincreag’s greeting, Gillian hesitantly moved to stand beside him.
The healer was an Arab—Gillian had seen paintings and woodcuts of them in histories of the Crusades. A cloth was wrapped around his head, so that his hair was completely covered. He wore colorful robes and pointed shoes, and his beard was long and black. He was smaller than she was. His dark hands, sure and quick, passed over Alan, pulling down the bedcovers and checking her father’s eyes and mouth.
After a moment, his black eyes scanned the room,taking in the audience that had formed, but fixing on Gillian, and then Rose, who’d come out of the study to watch.
He said something in heavily accented English. Gillian did not understand him, but Kincreag took her arm to lead her from the room. Rose came closer to the bed and glared back into the large jet eyes.
“I’ve been treating him for nearly two moons. I’m not going anywhere.”
The man protested, scandalized, but Alan put a hand on the healer’s arm. “I wish her to stay.”
The healer looked most displeased, but he nodded shortly and returned to his work. Gillian saw no more, because Kincreag pushed her through the door and closed it behind them.
“What’s his name?” Gillian asked when Kincreag led her across the hall.
“Hekim Mahir Ibn Zafir.”
“How is an infidel addressed? Hekim? Or Mr. Zafir? Or maybe just Lord Physician?”
“You will not speak to him.”
Gillian stopped abruptly, dumbfounded. “What? Why not?”
