“No,” Halldor said again, attempting to rise to his feet, but Editha held him where he was with one delicate hand to his wounded shoulder.
“In that case, I’ll do what I can to help him get there. Bring me water and bandages,” the Tinkler ordered, and her husband hurried back toward their wagon. “And you, Halldor O’Donar, I’d have those jewels of which you spoke.”
“Wait!” Brie could hardly believe her ears. According to Halldor, the jewels were as necessary to their quest as the sword itself. He’d told her the jewels must be reunited with the sword to rein in its power. Giving them to the Tinklers was out of the question. “There must be some other payment you’d accept.”
“Bah! Dinna you be so foolish, lassie.” Editha’s eyebrows knit together into a straight, dark, disapproving line. “I’ve no desire for payment. I need the gems to bind the evil within his wound.”
“Oh.”
Brie’s face flamed with her embarrassment as she silently berated herself for sinking to all the closed-minded judgment she’d heaped at Halldor’s feet such a short time ago. She was every bit as bad as he was. Worse, in fact, because she’d convinced herself that she had no prejudices, and yet, at the very first opportunity, she had jumped to the wrong conclusion about the people who had risked so much to help her when she needed their help.
More proof, as if she required it, that her father had been right. Her lack of patience and hasty judgment madeherher own worst enemy.
“Bridget!”
Brie’s head snapped up, her attention refocused on the scene before her.
“I need you out here with us, lass, no drawn deep inside yer own thoughts. Listen to me well. Should the bandage need redressing before you reach Rowan Cottage, there’ll be none but you to do it, aye? You must pay attention to the proper way.”
Brie nodded and sank to her knees next to the Tinkler. Though why the woman seemed to think dressing a wound was so complicated was beyond her understanding. A bandage was a bandage.
“Watch carefully,” Editha instructed, pointing to the ground in front of her, where a long strip of folded linen lay with the jewels tucked in between the layers of the cloth.
“You’ll line the stones up, just so,” she said, working through the linen to straighten the stones next to one another like little soldiers standing at attention. “You’ll want to make sure you dinna touch them with yer bare hands. You must ensure that the five of them are kept close together at all times with the linen drawn over them. To do otherwise could give Fenrir a clear view of everything around the jewels.”
“Fenrir?”
“The Beast that inhabits Torquil’s body. An ancient being of immense evil.”
A shudder crawled down Brie’s spine and she drew back a little, uncomfortable with her nearness to the stones. She’d known they were powerful, but she’d had no idea just how powerful they actually were. Neither had she understood how direct their connection to the Beast could be.
“You’ll want to make sure the center stone is directly over the wound,” Editha continued. “Come. Watch.”
As Brie leaned in close, she could feel the heat rolling off Halldor’s fevered skin. The wound had puckered, the skin red and heated. Small gray bubbles formed along the line of the opening, tumbling out over one another like ants escaping a hill, battling for their release from the confines of his skin.
Editha laid the cloth over the wound and Halldor sucked air into his lungs as if he fought off some great pain.
Unable to stop herself, Brie reached for his hand, holding on as his grip tightened around her fingers.
“And you tie it, just so. You see? Twice around and tie it again. You can do this, yes? Yes.” Editha answered her own question, nodding to herself as she rose to her feet and brushed her hands off on the long folds of her brightly colored skirt.
Halldor squeezed Brie’s hand and then released his hold, pushing himself up to stand and offering a hand to assist Brie. Already the normal skin tone had returned to his face and he seemed steadier on his feet.
“Excellent work, my lady Tinkler.” He bowed his head respectfully before turning to catch up his horse’s reins. “I feel well enough to return to our hunt for—”
“Three days at most,” Editha cut in. “Time to reach Rowan Cottage if you hurry, but nothing more.”
“Reclaiming the sword is more important than what might happen to me.”
“No!” Brie’s cry overshadowed the Tinkler’s.
“You are wrong, Halldor O’Donar.” Editha pointed a finger in his direction, her voice taking on a musical quality Brie hadn’t heard before. “You must live. Perhaps you forget that you are indebted to me—and not even death frees you from a debt owed the Fae.”
The Fae?Brie had no time to consider Editha’s startling revelation or Halldor’s apparent lack of surprise at the Tinkler’s words.
He ran his free hand down over his mouth and chin as if he’d forgotten his beard was no longer there. “Even if I go along as you say, the protections set at Rowan Cottage will prevent my entry. We both know that.”
“Bridget will gain your entry,” Editha responded. “Trust in her.”
