The Horsemasters Read Free Page B

confusing to Nel. “Alin?” She frowned, trying to remember. “My Mother, do you mean the Chosen One who long ago deserted the tribe to go and live with a man of the Horse?”
    Fali’s eyes flashed, a strangely vivid look in that withered old face. “Alin did what she had to do.” The white head bowed. “Elen was a good Mistress,” she said. “Arika is a good Mistress. But neither of them could equal Alin.”
    Prudently, Nel did not reply.
    “You have her blood, Nel,” was Fali’s next remark. “You have the blood of Tor in your line, the blood of Alin’s father.”
    Nel nodded. She knew the name of Tor. Like all members of the tribe, she had been required to memorize her own blood lines.
    “I have been watching you,” Fali said now, and Nel’s head lifted in sudden alarm. Fali went on: “I am thinking that you may have the Mother’s healing touch.”
    “It is only that I do not like to watch anything suffer,” Nel answered softly. “I have no special touch.”
    “If you would like to learn more about the use of herbs to heal,” Fali said, “I will teach you.”
    Nel’s green eyes glowed. “I would like that very much, my Mother.”
    The Old Woman nodded. “Arika has some of the skill, but Morna shows no inclination toward the healing arts. You, Nel”—the bright brown eyes regarded her shrewdly—”you, I think, may be my heir.” Before Nel could reply, Fali’s eyes closed, and she fell into the light doze of the very old. Nel sat quietly, her thoughts going from Fali’s words to the other concerns that had brought her here.
    At last Fali’s eyes opened. She picked up one of the scrapers and began to rub the deerskin that was stretched out on the ground before the hut. Nel watched for a moment in silence, and then she spoke what was on her mind. “My Mother,” she said, “I understand that it is not permissible for hearth-cousins to marry…”
    Fali looked up from her scraping. “Of course it is not permissible,” she said. “Cousins whose mothers were sisters are too closely bound to marry.”
    “Yet it is acceptable for cousins whose parents were sister and brother to marry,” said Nel.
    Fali began to rub her scraper over the skin once more. “Sister and brother, that is different. The children of brother and sister are cross-cousins, not hearth-cousins.”
    “But what…” Nel inhaled and bravely brought it forth: “What if a girl wants to marry a boy who was hearth-cousin to her mother? Would that be permissible?”
    There was a long silence. Fali’s arm had ceased all motion. “Ronan,” she said.
    Nel felt the heat come into her cheeks. “I was just wondering.”
    Fali’s look was piercing. “Does Ronan wish to marry you, Nel?”
    Nel’s cheeks flushed hotter. “Na,” she answered gruffly.
    “Then why ask such a question?”
    Nel did not answer.
    The Old Woman put down her scraper and folded her withered hands. To Nel’s great relief, she gazed away toward Deer Hill. “What are the family lines here?” Fali asked herself thoughtfully. “Ronan is the son of Arika. Arika and your grandmother were sisters; therefore Ronan and your mother were hearth-cousins.”
    “Sa,” Nel said a little breathlessly. “So doesn’t that make Ronan and me cross-cousins?”
    Fali removed her gaze from the looming hill and turned to Nel. “I am thinking, Nel, that it would not be wise of you to set your mind on Ronan,” she said slowly.
    “Why is that, my Mother?”
    “It would be dangerous.” Fali frowned, making even more wrinkles in her face. She repeated, her voice stronger, “Do not set your mind on Ronan.”
    “The blood ties are too close?”
    Fali shook her head. “It is not the blood ties.”
    “Then I do not understand you, my Mother,” Nel said patiently. “If it is not the Wood ties, then what is dangerous?”
    “You and Ronan together—that is dangerous.” Fali reached out and took Nel’s chin in her hand. The Old Woman’s grip was surprisingly