(eng) Mindy L. Klasky - Glasswright 05 by The Glasswright's Master

Author:The Glasswright's Master [Master, The Glasswright's]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

5

Kella watched Tovin Player stride into the woods, carrying himself with complete confidence. She expected nothing less of him; in the months since he had first come to her cottage, he had never admitted being wrong about anything.

Kella smiled. Well, in reality he wasn’t wrong about much. She was willing to grant him that. How much of his success was due to his easy smile, and how much was due to his striving to be at the correct place at the correct time, well, she wasn’t going to speculate on that. Not now. Not when she had her own business to tend to.

Glancing at the edge of the clearing, she saw that the day was getting on. She stepped back into the hut, expecting handsels to arrive shortly. No reason not to get some of her own work done before they came, though. No reason to let these travelers crisscrossing her forest leave her behind in her herb work.

Kella lifted down her medium-sized cauldron and began to count out the herbs that she needed to boil for her strongest liniment. She measured out handfuls of mint—the cooling scent would bring relief to anyone who paid. Then she added a healthy dose of fireleaf; its peppery heat would draw out a variety of injuries. She included a thimble’s worth of ground nettle, because the irritant would work wonders on sore muscles. Grumbling to herself, she realized that the last herbs she needed, the very binding elements to the working, sat in the back corner of her loft.

She grunted as she pulled herself to her feet. She might benefit from the concoction herself once she had finished boiling it down. She grimaced at the slow ache in her thighs. Those muscles might have gone untested for years, but Tovin Player’s games forced her to push her body. She smiled and shook her head, closing her eyes as she remembered the words that he had whispered during the night. A young man’s words … A foolish boy’s words …

She heard the blow an instant before she felt it. An arm moved through the air, creating its own wind. If she had still been a young woman, she could have pivoted on her knee, could have ducked away from her assailant. Now, she had only an instant to brace herself against the certain pain.

And there was pain. The blow came from a cupped hand, slammed hard against the side of her head. For an instant, she could only blink her eyes, stunned, and then she heard the echoes in her ear, the muffled rumble of thunder made distant by the blow. Tears sparked down her cheeks without waiting for her permission, and she bellowed a curse that would have made her mother blush.

She turned to confront her assailant, stretching sideways so that she could grasp the poker that nestled on the edge of her fire. He—it must be a man, given the force of that blow—he predicted her movement and cut her off, knocked her to the ground and placed one booted foot on top of her wrist.

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