"Yes, I have!"
"Shh," Miro soothed. "I meant no offence." He looked back at the doorway to Ella’s room, stopping to listen. He paused to think for a moment. "In life there are some things you can change, and other things you have no control over." His gaze was far away. "Ella and I, we didn’t choose to grow up without our parents. It was something that was thrust upon us. What you need to do, Amber, is to decide what this is, and to act accordingly. It’s always better to take an uncertain step, than to have the same step thrust upon you through inaction."
"It’s easy enough to say."
Miro took Amber’s hand. "Amber, you’re young and you have your life ahead of you. You are also kind and compassionate, and if I may say, you’re growing into a beautiful young woman. Igor Samson obviously sees these qualities in you."
"But I love someone else," Amber said softly. She looked down, and then looked up at Miro, her gaze intent.
"Does he love you in return?" said Miro.
"I… I don’t think so."
Miro smiled in an attempt to lift the mood. "Then forget about him, he doesn’t deserve you. There’s no use pining for water in the desert; sometimes you have to pick a direction and start walking."
Miro went to check on Ella once more, leaving Amber alone with her thoughts.
When he returned, she’d regained some of her composure. He wasn’t sure what Amber had decided, but she seemed to have come to some conclusion.
She started when she saw his face; the concern must have been written across it.
"She has a fever. It’s rising terribly. Amber, do you know where Dunholme is?"
"Dunholme? You want me to go to Dunholme?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"When Ella and I were young, a woman looked after us for a time. Brandon said she was a friend of my mother. Her name was Alarana. She was one of the Dunfolk."
"Really?" Amber’s eyes lit up with interest. Miro could have smiled, if the situation weren’t so grave, always amazed at the way Amber could be crying one minute, laughing the next.
"She raised us in the old ways, keeping it secret from Brandon. For a time we worshipped the Eternal like one of the Dunfolk. She knew about the leaves and the plants, about medicine — magic that can be used on the body."
"On the body? Everyone knows lore can never be applied to the living."
Amber’s voice fell when she realised what she was discussing.
Miro spoke before she had a chance to dwell. "Not lore, this uses no essence, no runes or enchantment."
"What magic are you talking about then?
"Medicine, herbs that help the healing processes of the body."
"Is such a thing possible?"
"Alarana was sure of it, and I believed her. As children, whenever we were sick, she would make a special brew of plant extracts, mosses, and fungi. We always grew better much more quickly than the other children."
"It’s a lot to place our hopes on."
"Amber, listen to me! It’s all we have. In one day, perhaps two, Ella will be dead. I have given her some of a root that I remember Alarana using. It seems to be doing something, but not enough. I need one of the Dunfolk."
Amber took a deep breath. "What do you need me to do?"
15
The Lore of the Enchanter is the precursor to them all.
Study it well.
— The Lore of the Enchanter, 12-56
AMBER stepped lightly through the trees, barely able to make her way in the dim light. The thick forest canopy closed in on her. She had no idea what time of day it was, but she seemed to have been walking forever. Miro had told her it would take half a day to walk to Dunholme, half a day to walk back. She hoped she would return soon enough.
The trees were ancient, tangled creatures, crowded close together, fighting for the scattered rays of sunlight that filtered through the tallest tops. The further she travelled from Sarostar, the darker the leaves became, and the more vibrant and abrasive the sounds of the forest. The air was redolent with the scent of damp; somewhere she could hear the tinkle of flowing water, a hidden sound amidst the cries of the forest creatures and the buzz of the insects.
A branch crackled under her thin shoe, breaking completely. Amber’s foot sank down into something wet and soft.
"Urgh," she said, pulling her now wet shoe out with a grimace. "That makes both of them now." She wasn’t sure which of her feet was wetter.
She reached a patch of open ground, littered with twigs and dead leaves. Some animal had made a nest in the fork of a branch above her head. Whatever it was, it was big.
Amber reached into a pocket in the folds of her brown dress and withdrew the seeker Miro had given her. "Skut-tsee," she activated it.
The runes glowed softly, the colours arranging themselves in a pattern. Amber lined the pattern up with the arrows and turned slightly to the left.