"And who are you, to credit such rumors?"
"I am Aelfric, headman of Greenhaven. They are not rumors, I assure you."
Lauris turned her gaze back to the fire. "And what would you have me do, Headman Aelfric?"
"I would have you stay, and protect our village as Wizard Blayne did." Startled, she glanced back at him. "His home stands empty. None of us dare go inside. All is as he left it—books, tools, garden. We're poor folk, but we will recompense you fairly. Will you consider my offer?"
Her eyes searched his, seeking out the lie. Lauris knew how to sense deceit and malice—it was all part of her training. She found none. Aelfric's offer, as far as her skills could tell, was both generous and genuine. Lauris thought of the rain, the mud, the loneliness that had been her life up to now, and nodded. His face relaxed into a smile. "I am so glad. When you are warm, sit and eat with me, and I will tell you of Greenhaven."
Two days later, Lauris knew she had made the right decision. No lady in her manor home could have been happier than Lauris in the four-bay, stone-walled house with fresh thatching for its roof. Behind the house was a garden, overgrown (no villager would dare weed a wizard's garden!) but planted with all manner of useful herbs. And the books! The solar that had served as Blayne's bedroom was crammed with them.
Lauris was leafing through a pile of old tomes when a knock on the door startled her.
"Come," she called.
A lad of about thirteen summers poked his head in shyly. "Good morning, milady," he murmured. "My name is Tomas. I served Master Blayne before he—when he lived here, and I'm to serve you as faithfully. I've brought you some food, and I've come to clean for you."
Lauris quirked an eyebrow. "Aelfric said nothing of a servant," she said.
The boy shrugged. "Headman Aelfric doesn't know everything about Master Blayne."
She regarded the youth for a moment, from his tow head to his scuffed boots, sensed only shyness and sincerity, and decided she liked him "Very well. Come in, and I'll sit in the garden while you clean."
He smiled, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. She had made the right choice.
She left him to his chores, smiling herself as he burst into an off-key rendition of the latest drinking tune as he made a fire in the hearth and set a pot to boil. Outside, the late summer heat made the garden seem hazy to Lauris's eyes. She stretched in the sun as Shadow might, then knelt on the good, clean earth and began to weed.
He's planted everything, she thought as she worked Yarrow, agrimony, lady's mantle, angelica, woodworm, mugwort, chamomile, meadowsweet, lavender, feverfew—every herb she was familiar with seemed to be growing here, as well as several she'd never seen before. She'd have to go back over Blayne's books to see if he had one on herbs.
Eventually, Lauris rose, wincing as she straightened, and noticed that the sun had traveled quite a way across the sky. Clearly, she'd lost track of time, poking around in Blayne's—no, her—garden. But that was all right. She couldn't recall when she'd felt so... carefree.
She realized she was smiling as she walked back into the house. Tomas had gone, but he had set out food for her—and something else. A rose, pink and soft as a baby's mouth, lay across the metal trencher.
How sweet, and yet how awkward. She'd have to handle the youth's infatuation gently. She picked up the rose, inhaled the sweet fragrance, then ate heartily of the fare Tomas had provided.
Suddenly Lauris saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye. She jumped, then told herself it was surely no more than poor young Tomas, blushingly eager to see how his token was received. But when she turned around, there was no one there.
"Who's there?" she called, but no answer came. The wizard glanced around for Shadow, trusting the cat's senses more than her own, but the feline had gone—off hunting voles in the garden, no doubt. Where was a familiar when you needed him? "Tomas?"
No reply. Frowning a little, she moved to the opened door, and peered out. Only the dirt road, winding its way from the village to the forest trail, met her gaze. A breeze rose, stirring up dust, and Lauris firmly closed the door. She was annoyed to find that her heart was beating rapidly. An idea was starting to take shape in her mind, an idea that, if true, would spell trouble, caution, and fear.
That idea's name was ghost.
Lauris had never seen the ocean, but now she stood on the white sand, her naked shoulders turned to alabaster by the radiance of the full moon, and flung back her head. The wind took her long, dark hair and gave it new life. She shivered at the zephyr's cool fingers as they caressed her skin, then walked into the warm, welcoming water.
Though she did not know how to swim, she merged effortlessly with the ocean, a mermaid who yet kept her legs. Shark and octopus brushed past her, but Lauris was unafraid until she sensed panic in the ocean depths.
Something was here that did not belong, that was afraid, that did not know how to live—that would soon die, its lungs clogged with sea water, if she did not intervene.