The Lost Child by Sarah Ash

Author:Sarah Ash
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781625670052
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2013-05-17T07:00:00+00:00

Jaufré stood watching from the window until Berengar had untied Tramontan and disappeared from sight.

Then he went to his desk and scribbled a few lines to ‘Arnault Bazanet at the House of the Golden Bee’:

Accompany Lieutenant de Belcastel into the mountains. But keep me informed of your whereabouts at all times.

Orbiel

CHAPTER 17

Bright sunlight woke Lia.

‘Mm … not yet, Emmenza,’ she murmured, turning over. The bed seemed so much harder, narrower than usual. And why did every bone in her body ache so?

She opened her eyes. For one moment, she lay unmoving in the column of mote-speckled sunlight, staring at the unfamiliar rough-stone walls. And then, hearing the clucking of the chickens outside the window, the bleating of goats, she remembered.

She was in Tifereth.

She struggled out of the narrow wooden bed and went over to the little window, wincing with each step. Even the slightest movement was an agony; she was stiff all over.

The window was set deep in the thick stone wall and she had to stand on tiptoe, leaning on the stone ledge, to see out.

Brown hens pecked and chattered in the gravel below her window. A little girl, barefoot, was trying to guide white ducks towards a pond with a stick. Goats were nibbling the sparse grass. The yard was more like a farmyard than the inner courtyard of a college. How could the scholars study with all this clamour?

She limped back across the bare boards and sat down to examine her feet. Blisters had rubbed and broken, leaving raw red weals on her heels and toes. She sucked in her breath as she tried to touch the tender places. If only she could remember the herbs her mother used to make a soothing foot-bath …

Mother.

She would not allow herself to admit how much she missed Zillaïs.

She would ask Selima if she had any salves for blistered feet.

But first she would have to find Selima.

She picked up her worn shoes, wondering how she could squeeze her sore, swollen feet into them. Gingerly, she tried to ease the right one on.

No. She would rather go barefoot than rub the little remaining skin from the blisters. She picked up the shoes and slowly, painfully set out to locate Selima.

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