Blood and Memory by Fiona McIntosh Page B

calling for it. In fact, he would be the first to admit that he suffered the ocean sickness and hated anything to do with boats and fish. Saying such things was sacrilege in his village, so he suffered in silence, but despite trying so hard did a terrible job of mending nets. His father finally gave up on him and on one particular evening of high frustration asked a traveling monk whether he would take his youngest, good-for-nothing son with him and teach him the ways of Shar. “Perhaps he’ll be some use to us then and can pray for our safety and prosperity,” Pil had haltingly repeated to Ylena one day. The monk had agreed, and after traveling with the man for several months, Pil had discovered that he was good at his letters, but was also interested in doing Shar’s work. The kindly guardian had contacted his old friend Jakub at Rittylworth, and by year’s end, young Pil had found himself a new home and a new family, who welcomed him with love and patience. He had fit in easily and being the youngest had been spoiled with care and affection from the Brothers. Ylena could see that the love they had given him had manifested itself in Pil’s ebullience and his desire to do his god’s work with enthusiasm. She thanked her lucky stars that Pil had been so dreadful at fishing and had told him this not long ago, amusedly watching him blush and stammer.
    And then there was Brother Jakub: calm, elderly, patient Jakub, with his searching eyes that seemed to see into the depths of her heart.
    It was obvious he knew something of what had happened to her, and by whose hand, but he had never asked anything directly of her dark experiences. Perhaps Romen had given him information, but she suspected not. Her time with Romen told her that Koreldy was an intensely private man with secrets of his own, and one used to keeping them, be they his or someone else’s. There were moments on their journey from Pearlis when Romen reminded her of Wyl. Just now and then there were phrases he used or a way he might hold his head or comfort her when she could almost believe Wyl was still near her. Romen had explained that he had given his word to her brother, before he died, to save her from the dungeon. But she suspected he had not shared any of their dark background with anyone else. There was no need for the kind Brother Jakub and his fellow holy men to suffer her torments. That they offered sanctuary was more than enough.
    Today felt no different from the others that had gone before. Despite the bright day, winter’s bite was still nipping at everyone’s heels, although the buds on the fruit trees and the promise of blossom suggested that spring was not far away. Ylena pulled her soft shawl more tightly around her. The mornings were still bitterly cold this far north and even the steaming creamed oats and oozing chunk of honeycomb she had swallowed gratefully earlier had not warmed her sufficiently. She shivered, relishing the thought of her daily soak in the soothing waters in the grotto.
    Crossing the main courtyard, she smiled at two Brothers who dipped their heads toward her but did not break the morning silence, held until third bell, due any moment. She wondered where Pil was. He was normally skipping around her by this time, making her laugh with his tall stories.
    Truly, it felt as though she had lived here among the Brothers for an age when in fact it was barely weeks.
    Her boots clicked on the flagstones of the great arched cloisters. She turned her head, knowing Brother Tomas would be in the tiny courtyard to her left, where he lovingly tended the citrus bushes. The peel of the Akin fruit had healing properties, he had explained to her, and it was curiously at its most powerful in the morning. And so each day he was here at the same time, touching the fruit, testing it for readiness. She waved and he nodded back to her, holding up one of the bluish-green spheres, grinning.
    It was a good one obviously. Tomas had mentioned that he