Lord of the Isles Read Online Free PDF Page B

his head in irritation. “She’s an educated person to have been able to say that,” he said, “but she was clearly out of her mind. I only hope she becomes lucid enough to tell us who to send for to collect her and pay for her keep. Her clothing’s expensive, all right, but she didn’t have a purse or any jewelry that she could sell.”
    Garric grimaced, though he knew that if his father had been another sort of man he’d never have been able to make a go of an inn in this remote spot. Reise wouldn’t refuse charity to a castaway, but he’d grudge it and make no secret of the fact.
    â€œCan I see her?” Garric asked.
    â€œI don’t see why not,” Reise said. “She’s in my house, isn’t she?”
    Garric walked inside. Behind him his father muttered, “The roof’s leaking in a dozen places from the storm, and now I’ve got a madwoman to care for as well!”
    Garric had laid the castaway on a truckle bed in the common room. There were smaller rooms upstairs for drovers and merchants with a bit of money, but he’d been afraid of bumping her on the steep, narrow stairs. She was still there; with no guests at the moment, there was no reason to move her.

    Nonnus knelt beside the bed of rye straw plaited into thick rope and coiled higher on the edges to keep the sleeper from rolling out. Lora and Sharina were both in the kitchen from the sound of voices. One wick of the hanging oil lamp was lit to provide light to add to what still leaked through the mullioned windows.
    â€œShe said her name’s Tenoctris,” the hermit offered. He spoke in the slow voice of a man who spent most of his time alone. “I think she’ll be all right.”
    Garric squatted. He didn’t remember ever being this close to the hermit before. Nonnus’ face and arms were ridged with scar tissue emphasized by shadows the lamplight threw.
    Garric heard his sister come out of the kitchen. “She looks terrible,” he blurted.
    Tenoctris wore a woolen shift; one of Lora’s worn castoffs, Garric thought. Her breathing was weak, and her skin had a sickly grayish sheen that Garric hadn’t noticed when he brought her from the sea.
    Nonnus smiled dryly. “Her main trouble was dehydration and sunburn,” he said. “She drank as much buttermilk as I thought she could keep down, and I covered the exposed skin with ointment. Also I added lettuce cake to the milk to knock her cold until tomorrow morning.”
    Garric grimaced. Now that he’d been told, he recognized the smell of the lanolin that was the basis of the hermit’s salve. No wonder Tenoctris’ skin looked slick.
    â€œLettuce does that?” Sharina said.
    â€œOh, yes,” Nonnus said. “The juice boiled down to a solid. The sunburn isn’t dangerous, but it can hurt bad enough to make you forget an arrow through your thigh.”
    Garric stood up. “Do you want to move her upstairs?” he said.
    Nonnus shook his head. “Your father says she can lie here overnight,” he said. “Your sister will stay with her. When she wakes up she’ll be able to walk short distances. With the Lady’s help.”
    Garric looked—really looked—at the muscles of the hermit’s
limbs. Now he felt doubly a fool for suggesting that this man couldn’t have carried the castaway himself if he’d wanted to.
    â€œWe gave her clothes to Ilna to clean the salt out of,” Sharina said. “They’re lovely fabric, Garric. Did you notice them?”
    Garric shrugged. He’d never been particularly interested in clothing, but he knew that Cashel’s sister, Ilna, was the finest weaver in a day’s journey. She was the obvious person to take care of cloth of any sort. “How long has she been in the water?” he asked Nonnus.
    â€œA day, a day and a half,” he said. “Not long, I think. Her skin’s too