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Pavek wanted his lessons, but he stayed where he was, staring at the
dustweed and getting himself under control before he faced Telhami again.
He didn't know how much privacy his thoughts had from the grove's manifest
spirit; he didn't ask. Telhami never mentioned Akashia directly, only needled
him this way when he wandered down morose and hopeless paths.
If Pavek couldn't deny that he'd become a hero to the Quraiters, then
he shouldn't deny, at least to himself, that right after the battle he'd
hoped Kashi would accept him as her partner and lover. She had
turned to him for solace while Telhami lay dying, and he'd laid
his heart bare for her, as he'd never done never been tempted to
do with anyone. Then, when Telhami made her decision, Kashi turned
away from him completely. She wouldn't speak with him privately or meet his
eyes. If he approached, she retreated, until Pavek retreated as well, nursing
a pain worse than any bleeding wound.
Pavek didn't understand what he'd done wrong except that it was probably his
lack of understanding in the first place. Street-scum templars knew as much
about solace as they knew about weeds.
These days, Kashi kept counsel and company strictly with herself.
Quraite's reconstruction had become her life, and for that she needed
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workers, not partners. As for love, well, if Akashia needed any man's
love, she kept her needs well hidden, and Pavek stayed out of her way. He
spent one afternoon in four drilling the Quraiters in the martial skills
Kashi wanted them to have; otherwise Pavek came to the village at
supper, then returned to the grove to sleep with starlight falling on his
face.
It was easier for them both.
Easier. Better. Wiser. Or so Pavek told himself whenever he thought about it,
which was as seldom as possible. But the truth was that he'd give up
Telhami's grove in a heartbeat if Kashi would invite him to hers.
A wind-gust swirled out of the grove. It slapped Pavek smartly
across the cheek Telhami was annoyed with his dawdling and guessed, he
hoped, at the reasons. He dusted off the pollen and retrieved his hoe. A
stone-pocked path led from the verge to the heart of the grove Telhami's magic
from his first days here when he'd spent most of his time getting lost. This
one path would take him anywhere in the grove, anywhere that Telhami
wanted him to go. He veered off it at his own risk, even now.
Telhami's grove abounded with bogs and sumps as dank as any Urik
midden hole. Such places were home to nameless creatures that regarded
the grove's current, under-talented druid as Just-Another Meal.
There was a black-rock chasm somewhere near the grove's heart he'd come upon
it from both sides without ever finding a way across. And a rainbow-shrouded
waterfall that he'd like to visit again, except that it had taken him
three days to find the path out.
Stick to the path, Akashia had snarled when he'd finally returned to
Quraite, tired and hungry after that misadventure.
Do what she tells you. Don't make trouble for me.
He'd told her about the misty colors and the exhilaration he'd felt when
he stood on a rock with the breathtakingly cold water plummeting
around him. Foolishly and without asking, he'd taken her hand,
wanting to show her the way while it was still fresh in his memory.
Do what you want in
Telhami's grove, she'd said, as hateful and bitter as any Urik templar.
Wander where you will. Sit under your waterfall and never come back,
if you think there's nothing more important to be done. But don't drag me
after you. I don't care.
Pavek couldn't remember the waterfall without also remembering Kashi's face
contorted with scorn.
He'd tried to find his way back, to restore himself in the pure beauty of the
place, but he couldn't remember the way. She'd seared the landmarks from his
mind.
It wasn't right. His old adversaries in the templarate could have a man's eyes
gouged out if he looked at them wrong, but, except for the deadheart
interrogators, they left his memories alone.
Another gust of wind struck Pavek's cheek.
"Work, that's what you need, Just-Plain Pavek. Escrissar's havoc isn't all
mended yet, not by a long shot. There's a stream not too far from here.
He knocked down the trees along its banks; now it's dammed and stagnant. Can't
count on anything natural to set it flowing again, not here in the Tablelands.
The channel needs to be cleared and the banks need to be shored up."
With one last thought for the waterfall, Pavek followed today's path into the
grove. He'd never been one for rebellion. Following orders had kept him
alive in Urik; it would keep him alive in Quraite as well.
A little walking on Telhami's path and Pavek came to a place where
a mote of Elabon Escrissar's wrath had come to ground beside what been a
stand of sweet-nut trees beside a brook. The trees were all down, black with
mold, and crawling with maggots. Their trunks had dammed the brook,
turning it into a choked, scummy pond. An insect haze hovered above the
mottled green water and the stench of rotting meat weighed down the
air.
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Compared to the other places where Escrissar's malice had struck the grove,
this place was healthy and almost serene. There was no danger here,
only the hard work of getting the water to flow again.
Evidently, Telhami had been saving this particular mess for a day when she
thought he needed the kind of distraction only exhaustion could bring. Pavek
wondered how many such places she held in reserve, how many he'd need
before he could think of Kashi without sinking into his own mire.
Telhami shimmered into sight atop one of the decaying trees. "Get the water
flowing. Work with the land rather than against it."
Time was that Pavek wouldn't have known what to look for and she would have
fed him clues. Now she expected him to resolve messes on his own. He dropped
to one knee and surveyed the land with his own squinted eyes. There was
nothing he could do for the fallen trees, but he could see the way the stream
used to flow and he could get it flowing again.
The insects had Pavek's scent and his heat. They swarmed around him
in a noisy, stinging cloud.
Without thinking, he slapped at his neck. There was blood on his fingers when
he glanced at them.
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