"Efeon." He tested the name out on his lips, tasting it like a new spice. "What does it mean?"
"River fox," she told him shortly, not adding the rest of it, that the river fox was known to be a changeable beast, full of magic and mischief, and utterly unpredictable. It was also said that should a person be so foolhardy as to catch a river fox, three strands from its red tail bound into a charm would bring the bearer his—or her—deepest desire.
Several weeks passed peacefully. Efeon found that he was skilled in writing, and began to scribe letters and agreements for the villagers. Always with a quick joke or a tiny sketch to delight the children, he seemed content. But at night, as he paced the walls of her cottage, Marise saw another side to him.
"There must be something you can do, some magic you can cast, that will solve this damnable mystery!" he raged at her after a particularly bad day. "I know I've a mage's training—I can feel it running in my bones. And how else could I have come to you, asking to be released?"
Marise turned a page in the spellbook carefully, smoothing the vellum so that it lay flat against the other pages. "We've discussed this before, Efeon. The spell was a powerful one. It is probable that, in exchange for breath, the spell consumed your talent. Would you have preferred to remain a spirit, aware yet apart?"
He turned on her, one clenched fist slamming down on the table so that her clay dishes rattled. "I want both!"
Marise stifled her instinctive start of fear. He had these bursts of temper often, and although she understood, and sympathized, they frightened her as well. He was a strong man, and without a spell at hand she was vulnerable should he rage out at her.
"Sit down, Efeon," she commanded, but he had already dropped onto the hardwood bench across from her.
"I'm sorry," he said in a harsh whisper. "I swear, I never mean to do that. I would never hurt you, I could never hurt you. You know that, don't you? All that I have, all that damnable spell left me, is you."
His head sunk onto his chest, Efeon looked so defeated that Marise once again forgot her plan to scold him, instead kneeling beside him, one arm curved across his knees. "It will come back to you," she said soothingly. "You simply mustn't push it. You were dead, if you care to remember! It takes some time to heal from that, even for wizards."
In the morning, Efeon seemed to have come to terms with his situation. Marise, on her way back from walking the borders of the village to reinforce the warders, stopped to watch him go over the details of a marriage contract with Mika and her intended's parents. The wizard smiled, soaking in the sight of such a normal activity. This would be the third marriage to be contracted since she came to stay. It was a good sign, meaning that the people had faith in her ability to keep them and their village safe. She hoped that she could live up to such expectations.
Efeon looked up just then, his solemn face breaking into one of his rare smiles at the sight of her. The smile was fleeting, but Marise could feel the warmth it engendered still within her. She smiled back at him, and continued on her way. Peddlers had arrived the night before, and Cheon wanted her to handle their goods, ensure that nothing was bespelled.
She smiled again, amused at the level of contentment she had found in this simple village. After all those years of wandering. All those mornings of being convinced that your fate lay over the next hill, and then the next, to come home in a ragged village half the size of the home you left in such a hurry. She thought of Efeon, and her smile grew warmer. Home, indeed. And someone to share it with, perhaps?
"I think it would be a good idea, m'boy. You've not stirred from this place since your arrival. Now, you've seen more of the world than I, that's obvious, but even a place so charming as this must wear on the senses after a bit. Even Marise gets out and every day. You just sit here, never so much as leaving sight o' this cottage. That can't be healthy, now, can it?"
Marise stopped outside the door and eavesdropped shamelessly. Betin had been after Efeon for weeks now, trying to convince the younger man to go with him on his rounds. The only healer within five villages, he spent much of his time traveling. He had asked her, but Marise didn't like to leave the village unprotected for longer than a day. That was all it would take for bandits to ride in and torch everything. So now he was turning his old man wiles on Efeon, who so far seemed immune.
"I told you already, Betin. I have no desire to go anywhere. This place suits me."
"Eh, sure it does. And the view suits you fine too, I'm sure. Well, that's all well and fine between you and Marise. No shame there, she's a fine woman, and a fine wizard too. But a man shouldn't be too settled, not at your young age. Plenty of pretty girls to wink at, where I'm going. And Marise none the wiser, eh?"
"Thinking to hide something from a wizard, old man?" she said, choosing that moment to enter the cottage, her arms laden with the first produce from the glass-enclosed garden she had helped build for Eiline over the winter.
Betin rose to help her, his customary grin telling her plainly that he knew she was not upset with him. Taking the pale roots from her arms and carrying them into the tiny storeroom, he said over his shoulder, "Ye may think I can't, but ye'd never know it if I could, now would you, child?"
Marise made a fond face at the old man's back, then turned to greet her houseguest. Efeon sat at the worktable, watching her with those brown-green eyes, his face smooth, as though he had never had an angry moment in his life. Marise smiled at him, trying to coax some spark to his eyes, then sighed, giving up. He was in a mood, then. She damned Betin, then retracted the thought. It wasn't the healer's fault that Efeon could range from laughter to scowls faster than a person could track.
"What is it, my river fox?" she asked gently, moving to stand in front of him, her hand tilting his chin up so as to look into his eyes. "Tell me what bothers you."
Efeon took his chin out of her hands with a jerk, not meeting her eyes, "That man. He comes in here, without so much as a by-your-leave, and starts harassing me to travel with him. As though it would be some honor to be chained to the prattling fool for days on end!"
Marise looked to the roof as if patience might be there, waiting to be found. "He is a good man," she began, "and wants only—"
Betin returned then, wiping his hands on his dun-colored pants. "You should clean in there more often, wizard," he scolded her, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. "Do you think your skills will save you from rats? Or food turning because you left it out too long? It must be something in your training is all I can think. You're almost as much a fool as our last wizard."