into the background as she continued to listen. She could hear the sound of hands in water, of buckets being lifted—with a grunt—and set down. Closer and softer, she could hear the gentle murmur of Torra in a voice that seemed ancient, but the syllables refused to coalesce into words.
She could hear the sound of wind; of breeze through heavy leaves. Like the Torra, it was a soft, gentle sound, and like the Torra, it almost implied words, without the harsher edge of syllables to contain them. Unlike the Torra, however, it didn’t come from the healerie.
Jewel opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Adam; he was seated across from her, his eyes closed, his cheeks faintly flushed. His hands were still entwined with the old woman’s—as were Jewel’s. She shifted gaze to see Maria, head propped up against a stack of pillows, blankets of varying weight covering the rest of her frail body.
But the bed was no longer bracketed by other beds; nor was it flush against a wall. Like the shelves in The Terafin’s personal library, it appeared to have grown out of the trunk of a very large tree. Above the bed, swaying in a warm breeze, were branches; the tree was Ellariannatte.
“Adam,” Jewel said. “Open your eyes.”
He did. They widened as he looked beyond her shoulder. The only person who didn’t appear surprised by her surroundings was Maria, possibly because her vision wasn’t that good.
“Where are we?” Adam asked—in Weston.
Maria frowned. If Weston was not her mother-tongue, or even her preferred one, she wasn’t an idiot; the question was very basic. “We are in the forest,” she said. “Help me stand, Adam.” Her voice was stronger than it had been in the healerie, the tone of command sharper. Adam, accustomed to autocratic women, immediately slid an arm beneath her shoulders, supporting her weight as she sat. She slid her hand out of Jewel’s, and swiveling, placed her feet against the forest floor; they were bare.
She was not, however; she wore clothing. Jewel was certain she’d been wearing a simple shift a moment ago, but that was gone; she wore a dress, a loose and comfortably practical one. It was a heavy cotton, a russet brown that had seen better years, and it was protected by an apron of many pockets.
“Are we ready?” she asked him. He looked confused; he was good at that.
“Where are your shoes?” Jewel asked.
Maria pursed her lips in a frown. “We don’t need shoes here,” she declared, with the vast authority of age.
“Where are we?” Adam asked.
“Don’t you know?” One white brow rose in a distinctive arch.
“No, Ona Maria. I’m sorry.”
She tsked as she set her bare feet firmly against the ground. “It can’t be helped.” Her arm dropped, but she still held Adam’s hand; he looked like a much younger boy as she began to lead him away from the bedside. But she paused and turned a speculative eye upon Jewel. “You had better join us, I think.”
Jewel, afraid to confess the same ignorance that afflicted Adam in Maria’s opinion, rose instantly. She noted that her dress, her signet ring, and her short boots remained unchanged. So, for that matter, did Adam’s clothing. The bed, however, dissolved, absorbed whole into the trunk of the great tree.
* * *
Maria apparently knew where she was going, which was good. Adam looked as apprehensive as Jewel felt. She wanted to speak to him, but was afraid to offend Maria.
“Where are we going?” Adam asked.
“To the Festival gates,” Maria replied. “They won’t be far from here. Can you hear the music?”
Until the old woman had mentioned it, there’d been no music. But Jewel could hear it now; lute, she thought, and pipe. She could hear the baritone of a man’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words.
“This is like Leila,” Adam said.
It seemed that way to Jewel, but she said, “No,” before half a thought had formed.
He didn’t argue and he didn’t question. Nor did Maria speak; she was now looking ahead, a smile deepening the lines around the corners of her mouth. The music grew in volume, and with it, the sounds of other voices: there was a crowd gathered here. Maria slid her hand free of Adam’s, and gave him a gentle shove forward. “Go,” she told him. “And have fun.”
“Maria—”
“It will be over soon enough,” the old woman told Jewel. She joined the gathered crowd and was soon lost to it. Adam and Jewel remained at its outer edge.