Page 33
“Many thanks. ” As she followed me to the door of the cabin, Nighteyes shadowed us at a discreet distance. Without turning to look at him directly, she observed, “A bit unusual, a wolf as a watchdog. ”
I often lied to people, insisting that Nighteyes was merely a dog that looked like a wolf. Something told me this would be an insult to Jinna. I gave her the truth. “I adopted him as a cub. He's been a good companion to me. ”
“So Hap told me. And that he does not like to be stared at by strangers, but will come to me when he's made up his mind about me. And as usual, I'm telling a tale by starting in the middle. I passed Hap upon the road a few days ago. He was in high spirits, with every confidence that he will find work and do well. I do believe he will; the boy has such a friendly, engaging manner that I cannot imagine anyone not welcoming him. He assured me again of a warm welcome here, and of course he spoke true. ”
She followed me into my cabin. She slung her pack to j the floor and leaned it up against the wall, then straightened and stretched her back with a relieved groan. “Well. What are we cooking? You may as well let me help, for I'm never content to sit still in a kitchen. Fish? Oh, I've a wonderful herb for fish. Have you a heavy pot with a tightfitting lid?”
With the ease of the naturally gregarious, she took over half the dinner chores. I had not shared kitchen tasks with a woman since my year among the Witted folk, and even then, Holly had been a nearsilent companion at such times. Jinna talked on, clattering pots and pans and filling my small home with her bustle and friendly gossip. She had the rare knack of coming into my territory and handling my possessions without me feeling displaced or uneasy. My feelings bled over to Nighteyes. He soon ventured into the cabin, and assumed his customary attentive post by the table. She was unruffled by his intent stare, and accepted his adeptness at catching the fish trimmings she tossed his way. The fish was soon simmering in a pot with her herbs. I raided my garden for young carrots and fresh greens while she fried thick slabs of bread in lard.
It seemed that dinner appeared on the table with no real effort from anyone. Nor had she neglected to prepare bread for the wolf as well, though I think Nighteyes ate it more out of sociability than hunger. The poached fish was moist and savory, spiced as much with her conversation as the herbs. She did not chatter endlessly, but her stories encouraged responses, and she listened with as much appreciation as she gave to the food. The dishes were cleared from the table with as little effort. When I brought out the Sandsedge brandy, she exclaimed delightedly, “Now, this is the perfect end to a good meal. ”
She took her brandy to the hearth. Our cooking fire had burned low. She added another piece of wood, more for light than warmth, and settled herself on the floor beside the wolf. Nighteyes didn't even twitch an ear. She sipped her brandy, gave an appreciative sigh, then gestured with her cup. My scrollcluttered desk was just visible through the open door of my study. “ knew you made inks and dyes, but from what I see, you employ them as well. Are you a scribe of some kind?”
I gave a desultory shrug. “Of sorts,” admitted. “I do not attempt the fancy work, though do simple illustration. My lettering is no better than passable. For me, there is a satisfaction in taking knowledge and committing it to paper, where it is accessible to all. ”
“To any who can read,” Jinna amended my words.
“That is true,” I conceded.
She cocked her head at me and smiled. “I don't think approve. ”
I was startled, not just that she disagreed with such a thing, but that she could do it so pleasantly. “Why not?”
“Perhaps knowledge should not be available to all. Perhaps it should be earned, parceled out from master to worthy student only, rather than committed to paper where anyone who chances upon it may claim it for himself. ”
“I confess to some of the same doubts myself,” I replied, thinking of the Skillscrolls that Chade now studied. “And yet have known of cases in which a master died an untimely death, and all she knew went with her, before it could be passed on to her chosen pupil. Generations of knowledge were lost in one death. ”
She was silent for a time. “Tragic,” she admitted at last. “For though masters of a skill may share a great deal of knowledge, each has his own secrets, destined only for hisown apprentices. ”
“Consider someone such as yourself,” I went on, pushing my advantage in the discussion. “You practice a trade that is as much an art, woven of secrets and skills shared only by those others who practice hedgemagic. You have no apprentice at all that have seen. Yet I would wager there are aspects of your magic that are yours alone, ones that would die with you if you perished tonight. ”