leave Smithin and start the search for her grandmother, she didn’t want to leave poor Sneath untreated. She doubted he’d even try to go to another healer and as it was, he was dying. If infection didn’t take him starvation would.
“Phew. Smells like a mouse as been dead for five days.” Kevan peeked around the door, holding his nose. “All that from Sneath? I never been in a closed room with ‘im - didn’t reckon he’d be quite so ripe.”
Brenna opened a small bottle of lavender oil and put a few drops on a clean cloth. She handed it to Kevan. “Here, wave this around, it should help with the smell.” He made a face and took the cloth. “And let Sneath be a reminder to you. Never, ever let your teeth go bad like that. Think of the smell he has to live with every day.”
“Not to mention he can’t eat Cook’s toffee apples.” Kevan agreed solemnly.
Brenna hid a smile and bent back to her table. She’d been working without a break since breakfast. Besides Sneath she’d treated half the inn staff and a handful of guests. Once the staff talked to outside customers word of a healer would spread - her few spare hours could easily turn into full days. For now she needed to tidy up and find Kane - they were due at Laurel’s for the evening meal.
Brenna was cleaning her knife when she felt the tingle that told her Kane was close by. She turned as he entered the room, an older man close behind him. Her smile slid off her face when the stranger rushed over to her.
He grabbed her knife hand.
“Where did you get this,” he demanded, his hand clenched tight around her wrist.
As Brenna struggled to break his grip on her she heard the smooth sound of steel sliding out of a scabbard.
“Release her, Yowan, if you want to keep your hand.” Kane’s voice was tight and hard.
Brenna felt the grip on her wrist loosen and she stepped back from the man, her knife held in front of her, ready if she needed to use it.
“Who are you?” she asked. She looked over at Kane. He still had his sword raised, although he relaxed slightly.
“Blessed Anu,” Kevan said softly. He sidled over to the door.
“Close the door when you leave Kevan and don’t let anyone in here.” Brenna called to him and he slipped out into the hall. No doubt he had his eye to the keyhole by now. She turned back to her attacker.
“Again, who are you?” she asked, her voice stronger.
The older man’s gaze slowly moved from her knife to her face.
“I’m sorry, Seer. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
His eyes went back to the knife and followed it as she lowered it to her side. Brenna quickly ran a cloth over it and tucked it into her belt.
Kane sheathed his sword before placing himself between Brenna and the older man.
“Yowan, what’s got into you, man?” he steered the older man toward a chair where he slumped, his eyes not leaving Brenna’s knife.
“I’m sorry, Brenna,” Kane said. “If I’d thought you would be at risk I never would have brought him here. This is Yowan Sellars – he’s head of the Brotherhood in Aruntun.”
“Is he true to the Brotherhood?” she asked quietly.
“I had thought so,” Kane said. “By all accounts he has single-handedly kept the Aruntian Brotherhood together for the past four decades.” Kane moved up beside her and turned his worried gaze on her. “If we can’t trust him we’ll have a great deal of trouble with the duchess. He used to be a guard for the duchess’ family.”
“Yowan Sellars.” Brenna moved step until she was standing in front of him. “Are you loyal to the Brotherhood?” He raised haunted yes to her.
“Yes, always. I am sorry, Seer, but it was such a shock, seeing her knife after all these years.” He raked silvered hair with a hand.
“This knife? Are you sure you recognize it?” Brenna drew her knife and held it out to him. Kane tensed when she moved closer.
Yowan took the knife, gently, almost reverently, from her hand. His large hand folded
“Phew. Smells like a mouse as been dead for five days.” Kevan peeked around the door, holding his nose. “All that from Sneath? I never been in a closed room with ‘im - didn’t reckon he’d be quite so ripe.”
Brenna opened a small bottle of lavender oil and put a few drops on a clean cloth. She handed it to Kevan. “Here, wave this around, it should help with the smell.” He made a face and took the cloth. “And let Sneath be a reminder to you. Never, ever let your teeth go bad like that. Think of the smell he has to live with every day.”
“Not to mention he can’t eat Cook’s toffee apples.” Kevan agreed solemnly.
Brenna hid a smile and bent back to her table. She’d been working without a break since breakfast. Besides Sneath she’d treated half the inn staff and a handful of guests. Once the staff talked to outside customers word of a healer would spread - her few spare hours could easily turn into full days. For now she needed to tidy up and find Kane - they were due at Laurel’s for the evening meal.
Brenna was cleaning her knife when she felt the tingle that told her Kane was close by. She turned as he entered the room, an older man close behind him. Her smile slid off her face when the stranger rushed over to her.
He grabbed her knife hand.
“Where did you get this,” he demanded, his hand clenched tight around her wrist.
As Brenna struggled to break his grip on her she heard the smooth sound of steel sliding out of a scabbard.
“Release her, Yowan, if you want to keep your hand.” Kane’s voice was tight and hard.
Brenna felt the grip on her wrist loosen and she stepped back from the man, her knife held in front of her, ready if she needed to use it.
“Who are you?” she asked. She looked over at Kane. He still had his sword raised, although he relaxed slightly.
“Blessed Anu,” Kevan said softly. He sidled over to the door.
“Close the door when you leave Kevan and don’t let anyone in here.” Brenna called to him and he slipped out into the hall. No doubt he had his eye to the keyhole by now. She turned back to her attacker.
“Again, who are you?” she asked, her voice stronger.
The older man’s gaze slowly moved from her knife to her face.
“I’m sorry, Seer. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
His eyes went back to the knife and followed it as she lowered it to her side. Brenna quickly ran a cloth over it and tucked it into her belt.
Kane sheathed his sword before placing himself between Brenna and the older man.
“Yowan, what’s got into you, man?” he steered the older man toward a chair where he slumped, his eyes not leaving Brenna’s knife.
“I’m sorry, Brenna,” Kane said. “If I’d thought you would be at risk I never would have brought him here. This is Yowan Sellars – he’s head of the Brotherhood in Aruntun.”
“Is he true to the Brotherhood?” she asked quietly.
“I had thought so,” Kane said. “By all accounts he has single-handedly kept the Aruntian Brotherhood together for the past four decades.” Kane moved up beside her and turned his worried gaze on her. “If we can’t trust him we’ll have a great deal of trouble with the duchess. He used to be a guard for the duchess’ family.”
“Yowan Sellars.” Brenna moved step until she was standing in front of him. “Are you loyal to the Brotherhood?” He raised haunted yes to her.
“Yes, always. I am sorry, Seer, but it was such a shock, seeing her knife after all these years.” He raked silvered hair with a hand.
“This knife? Are you sure you recognize it?” Brenna drew her knife and held it out to him. Kane tensed when she moved closer.
Yowan took the knife, gently, almost reverently, from her hand. His large hand folded
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