“I suppose that’s to be expected. We’ll have Ma put some salve on it when we return. Overall I think this worked well, don’t you?”
Liz tore her eyes away from Fin and smiled.
“Yeah, I think so, too. Each time we practice, we’ll get better. Tasks will come easier.”
“’Tis the best we can do.”
“We’re ready,” Simon called to them.
Liz took the reins and winced. Fin let out a curse. “Hold on.”
Without asking, Fin lifted her onto her horse with ease. “Can you manage with your other hand?”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Stubborn woman. Like ye’d tell me if it were otherwise.” That was better. Fin’s accent always thickened when he was angry. Anger was a hell of a lot easier of an emotion to concern herself with than anything resembling affection.
They started back to the keep, slightly battered, certainly exhausted, and more importantly, well practiced.
Tomorrow they could do it all over again.
****
Amber sat with her eyes closed while Tara handed her objects. “What about this one?”
Amber wrinkled her nose. “’Tis from the kitchen.”
It was a cloth used to clean and most likely Cian retrieved it from the cook.
“Yes.”
“But I can smell it, Tara. That gave it away.”
“Oh, well, how about this?” Into her hands, Tara placed a necklace. One she’d brought with her from the twenty-first century. She’d purchased it at the Renaissance Faire where she’d met Duncan. Cassy, her best friend in that time, bought one just like it.
Amber’s smile fell. “’Tis yours I think. You wear it with some sadness.” Her eyes opened. “Why does it make you unhappy?”
Tara’s fingers curled around the chain. “Not sadness really, just the feeling of a memory that will have to be with me for a lifetime. Like one you have when someone passes. You remember them with love and joy, but a heavy heart in that you’ll never see them again.”
“I understand.”
“More importantly, you’re right. Reading objects is getting easier than it was when we started.”
“Should we do more?”
Tara nodded and handed her a shirt from Simon.
Cian slipped quietly into the far room of the keep with more objects in his hands. After some time, Amber was able to determine whom the objects belonged to.
“What is your greatest gift, Cian? I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know.”
Having passed his eighteenth birthday, Cian no longer resembled the awkward boy he was when Tara had first arrived in this century. He towered over her to the height of his brothers and father.
“I’m fairly capable of fire, moving the wind comes with some ease although I’m not nearly as good with it as Myra is. My true gift still eludes me.
Sometimes I see images I can’t explain, and when I concentrate the images change, but I have no idea what they mean.”
“What do you see?”
“Circles, lines. Floating particles that all move in one direction. It feels like a type of energy.”
“Can you draw a picture of what you see?”
“I suppose I could.”
Somewhere in the back of Tara’s mind, his description sounded familiar.
A timid knock sounded on the door to their hideaway. “It’s me,” Lora’s voice called.
Amber scrambled to unlock the door and welcomed her mother.
“Are they back yet?”
“Nay, but I believe they are on their way.”
“It does feel that way,” Tara said almost to herself. “It’s strange how easily we all have connected to the point where we know if someone is near or far, hurt or well.”
Just then, Amber glanced down at her hand and brought it up to her eyes. “Lizzy’s hurt.”
“What?” All three of them pivoted in her direction.
She lifted both palms and studied them. “She will need salve, Ma. ’Tisn’t serious. A simple burn.”
****
Fin lifted her from the saddle under protest. She hated to admit it, but her palm hurt, big time. The throbbing started shortly after they left their hidden spot in the woods and proceeded to increase in intensity during their ride home. To make matters worse, Tara, Amber, and Lora met them in the courtyard. As Fin’s squire helped him with his mount and signaled others to follow, Amber descended upon her like a mother hen, which struck Liz as humorous considering the age of the girl. “Are ye well?”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“I think not. My first impression wasn’t as strong as it is now. Come inside.”
Liz held her injured hand above her heart easing some of the pain. Once inside and sitting on one of the many chairs in the great hall, Liz let Amber unwrap her hand.
Under the bandage, more than a simple burn emerged. In truth, the pain in the center was minimal to that on the edges lapping around to the backside of her hand. There it felt as if fire still licked the sensitive surface.
“Oh, Liz, what happened?” Tara asked, concern filling her voice.
“Nothing, we were practicing with balls of fire.
I’m fine.”
“I think not.” Lora stood and left the room, most likely in search of a medieval remedy to help the pain.
Liz took the opportunity to whisper to Tara. “Do you have any Advil or Tylenol?”
“I knew you pushed yourself too far.” Tara stood and left as well.
Amber shook her head. “You don’t have to learn everything overnight.” She moved to a pitcher of water and poured some onto a cloth before returning to dab her palm with moisture.
“It hurts doesn’t it?” Fin stood in the doorway.
His face set with anger.
“What is the matter with everyone? It’s just a burn.”
“No, Elizabeth, it isn’t just a burn. ” Fin lowered his voice and stepped closer. “Burns often lead to infection. With infection comes illness. We don’t have your medicine here to fix such a thing in this time.”
Liz drew back and her gaze drifted to her burned palm. Already the swelling doubled. She hadn’t though of that. The convenience of modern medicine wasn’t something she’d concerned herself with in the past. Doctors were nothing more than a few blocks away.
“I’m sure it’s okay.” But her voice wavered. She didn’t meet Fin’s eye. She couldn’t. He was right.
She should have stopped when she felt the first twinge of pain.