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“He is Galfrid’s man.”
Apparently that was all he planned to say. It should have been enough. None in Murwood have any great love for either court, their appeals to our people to fight for one side or the other something we do not tolerate.
“Aye, he is that.”
“What of you?”
Father knows I spoke to him that first day, but unless Amma decided to tell him, he doesn’t know about our private meetings. I plan to save the coin and give it to Father when the commander is well on his way back to the southern coast.
“He is not to be trusted,” Father adds, which I know to be true.
Lying to my father does not come naturally to me. So I find myself saying, “They are looking for Kipp.”
Our eyes meet.
“I’ve heard the same,” he says. “We need to warn him.”
Father knows of his true parentage, of course, after Kipp’s mother told us all so many years ago.
“Aye,” I agree. “Do you think he will return soon?”
Father nodded. “Any day. You can keep watch for him. You spend as much time wandering the village as you do in the forge.”
What good luck that he should suggest it.
“I know you do not approve . . .”
Father pushes himself away from the wall. His face is an entreaty. “I would keep you safe above all, Aedre.”
He glances over my shoulder, and his expression changes so drastically my stomach drops. I follow his gaze and groan.
Father Beald.
I’d not heard the Elderman was in town.
Traveling from port to port, he lands at the docks in Murwood End twice or thrice a year.
His visits are much the same each time. Around the village he goes, soliciting support for a church to be built right here in Murwood End. He simply cannot understand we need no such structure to believe in many of the same ideals as those who claim the Prima represents God’s will here on Earth.
“Good day,” my father greets him.
I echo the words, grinding my teeth as I say them.
“Master Dal. Mistress Aedre.”
I nod, trying not to let the deliberate slight bother me. Never mind that Garra are given the courtesy title of Lady—he refuses to use it. I care nothing for such trivialities, but I do care about the intentions behind his omission.
He’s never been subtle about his scorn for Amma and me, which is the reason my father is unable to contain his distaste for him. I put my hand over Father’s, reminding him of the Elderman’s power. Even here, in Murwood End, the church can touch us, and Father Beald’s visits remind us of the fact.
“Did you come on the Talisman?” my father asks.
“Aye,” he answers, regaling us with tales of the bad weather they’d encountered. The Elderman, who despite his title is no older than Father, notices I am not listening and glares at me.
“Working in the smithy today, Mistress Aedre?”
I’m tempted to tell him exactly what I’ll be doing this afternoon, but I don’t. I’ve nothing to be ashamed of—I seek only to heal—but Amma often reminds me that he dislikes not only our profession but the Voyagers’ unwillingness to build a church, which would allow him, or another, to stay on.
We may worship the same God, but we do not follow the laws of the Prima. To us, he is not God here on Earth but another man, just like Father or Kipp or Agnar. Those views make us a target—that I’m Garra makes the target larger.
