A Vine to Prune (Spirit Wind Book 2) by Daniel Dydek

Author:Daniel Dydek [Dydek, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beorn Publishing, LLC
Published: 2023-10-02T16:00:00+00:00

10

“Tabitha!” I called. “Can you come out here for a moment?”

She exited the back, dusting off her hands. When she caught sight of me, she froze. “Rae-Anna?” she asked softly.

I was staring at the long table from where she took and sold orders—specifically at the end of it, where a strange whirling star-pattern caught my eye. It was faded, perhaps scrubbed or scratched off. But at the sight of it, the strange childhood tune had begun playing in my head. “This symbol,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied, but offered no explanation.

I continued to trace it with my eyes, letting my thoughts drift. I had seen it other places: Mr. Messick’s, where it adorned shelves and suits of armor and attested to life; at the Mayor’s, where it had attested to love. And on a staff and medallion where—I shivered—it had attested to power. “This is what I went to see Henri about,” I said. She nodded gravely. My eyes flicked to hers. “You said I went to take him your gratitude.”

“I didn’t think it would be right to give you a memory you didn’t have on your own.” Though she said it boldly, her voice wavered. I waved it aside.

“I understand that,” I said. “But now I need to see him again.”

She looked at me a moment, then ducked into the back. She quickly returned carrying both our cloaks. “I will go with you this time,” she said. After we had donned our garments, she laid a hand on my arm. “One other thing,” she said gently. “As much to protect your face from the wind…” She trailed off, then reached across and draped a veil across my nose and secured it behind my head. It pinched at first where it lay, then cooled. I touched the veil, my eyes downcast. She stopped just short of lifting my chin, though with her hand cupped below my face I looked up anyway. “You will heal,” she said firmly. “Each day it pinks a little more. But if Henri thinks the symbol is at the root of what happened to you…”

“Then throwing it in his face will only make him more frightened,” I concluded. She smiled grimly and I nodded. We stepped out into the cold.

Winter was very nearly upon us, and the skies were slate. All the colorful bunting stood in contrast, more fitting for springtime, and the mood of the people around seemed as conflicted. There was still the odd entertainment—a juggler here, tumblers there, an empty stage announcing a mummery to be played later that evening. And so there were spots of laughter or clutches of happiness. Most of the town seemed back about its business. Perhaps the mayor had overplayed his festivities. But it gave the town a half-hearted feel.

We turned at the street and my steps slowed. Tabitha, ahead of me, slowed nearly the same time I did. And yet the alley was empty, and I felt no real threat or menace. Yet somehow we both felt rushing was foolish.

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