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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.
But what unnerved her proved helpful for Pavek who, as the warm Athasian morning became the longer, hotter Athasian afternoon, had some small success widi the simple mnemonics and invocations she suggested to him. He was not a difficult student-not argumentative, like Ruari, who wanted to try his own ways before he mastered the tried and true methods, or uncertain, like most other youngsters. Just-Plain Pavek was just plain exhausting.
